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THE CHILDHEH 

OF 

WILTON CHASE 


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Basil held a small lamp 


(Page 144.) 












THE CHILDREN 


OF 


WILTON CHASE 


AUTHOR 

j 


OP 


BY 

L. T. MEADE 



“POLLY, A NEW-FASHIONED GIRL,” “ A WORLD OP 
GIRLS,” “ THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL,” ETC. 


WITH SIX ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

EVERARD HOPKINS 



NEW YORK , 

CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

104 & XOO Fourth Avenue 


, S6^ 


COPTRIOHT, 1891, BY 
CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. 


AU rights reserved. 




THE MEnSHOH COMPANY PRESS, 
RAUWAY, N, J, 


THIS STORY 

IS DEDICATED, WITH AFFECTION, 

TO 

MAEJOET 

A CHILD WHO, POSSESSING THE SPIRIT OP LOVE AND SERVICE, 
HAS INSPIRED THE IDEA OP THAT OTHER MARJORY 
WHO APPEARS IN THESE PAGES. 


August, 1891 





CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER p^Gj; 

I. Marjorie’s Way, 1 

II. Shark, 13 

III. Ermengarde's Sin, . • 25 

IV. The Day op the Picnic, 32 

V. Locked in the Cupboard, 62 

VI. A Stolen Treasure, -69 

* VII. A Good, Boyish Sort op Girl, .... 82 

VIII. Father’s Birthday, 97 

IX. Five o’clock in the Morning, .... 104 

X. The Reign op Chaos, 115 

XI. Apter the Fun, 133 

XII. Apter the Birthday, ...... 150 

XIII. Basil’s Opinion, 162 

XIV. I Serve, 175 

XV. Lilias, 187 

XVI. The Beautipul Dress, 199 

XVII. The More Beautipul Face, 210 

XVIII. In the Toils, 217 

XIX. Some People who did not Flatter, . . . 228 

XX. What did Basil Mean? 235 

XXI. Susy’s Feverish Desire, 241 

XXII. Quite in a New Character, .... 250 

XXIII. Blessed and Happy, 261 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


TACINQ PAGE 

Basil held a small laaep, {Frontispiece). 

“ Now STRETCH OUT YOUR TWO HANDS, MiSS,” . . .52 

“Let’s come away,” whispered Marjorie, . . . 108 

“Please, Father, I don’t want to go now,” . . . 184 

“ I’m going home ; please let me pass,” said 

Ermengarde 229 

“It’s on account op Basil,” . 


. 269 








THE 


CHILDBEN OF WILTON tiHASE. 


CHAPTER I. 

MARj O kie’s way. 

DON’T care,” said Ermengarde. I 
won’t do it ! * I won’t obey her ! ” 
What are you saying, Ermie ? ” 
Ermengarde was standing by the 
dressing-table in her room. She had been 
talking half to herself ; she now turned quickly 
round, and confronted a plain little girl of 
between eleven and twelve. , 

“Is that you, Marjorie? I didn’t know you 
were listening. I had not an idea you were 
in the room.” 

“ But what did you say, Ermie ? Who is the 
person you won’t obey ? ” 

Marjorie had puckered up her brows. Her 



2 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


small, shrewd, sensible face looked full of 
anxiety. 

No^v, look here,” said Ermengarde, speaking 
with passion, “ don’t you interfere ! You are 
always poking your finger into everyone’s pie. 
Leave mine alone. I don’t Avant you to meddle, 
nor to help me. I understand my own affairs. 
What is the matter ? Are you going to cry ? ” 

“No, Ermengarde. I don’t cry. I think it’s 
babyish.” 

Marjorie walked to the other end of the large 
bedroom, tied on a shabby brown hat, and pre- 
pared to leave the room. When she reached the 
door she turned again, and looked at her sister. 

“ When Basil comes home ” she began. 

“ Oh, don’t. Why do you talk about Basil ? ” 
Ermengarde tossed her hat off her head as 
she spoke. “ And just when I might have 
been happy ! What are you lingering by the 
door for, Marjorie? Well, if you must know, 
I am not going to obey Miss Nelson any 
more. She went a little too far this morning, 
and I’ll shoAV her that I’m Miss AVilton, 
and that she’s only the governess — and — 

and Now, where’s that child gone to? 

I do think Marjorie is a perfect nuisance. I 
don’t see anything good in her. Paul Pry, 
I call her. Paul Pry, and a little busy- 
body. I suppose she’ll go and make up to 


Marjorie’s way. 


3 


Miss Nelson now, and tell her what I’ve said. 
No, though, that isn’t like her. She does try 
to stick up for one. Poor little plain mite. 
Well, I don’t intend to obey Miss Nelson, 
Marjorie or no Marjorie. Basil is coming 
home from school, and I shall go in the carriage 
to meet him. I don’t care what Miss Nelson 
said. She’s not going to keep me from meeting 
my own Basil. Why, I was fourteen a month 
ago — a great many girls are grown up at four- 
teen. I don’t mean English girls, of course, 
but foreigners, and I’m not going to be kept in 
surveillance, just as if I was an infant.” 

Ermengarde was quite alone in her nice room. 
The house was still, for just now the children — 
there were a good many children at Wilton 
Chase — were out. The time was the end of 
July, and on this very day Basil and Eric, the 
two public-school boys, were coming home. 
The whole house, that is the nursery and school- 
room part of the house, were in a flutter of 
expectation and excitement. Nothing ever dis- 
turbed the other end of Wilton Chase, where 
father and Aunt Elizabeth, and the numerous 
visitors resided. But the nurseries and the 
schoolrooms were generally noisy apartments, 
and it was very unusual to have such a still- 
ness as now reigned over the whole of this 
important portion of the house. 


4 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Ermengarde and Marjorie slept in two pretty 
white beds, side by side, in this nice, large, 
cheerful bedroom. Ermengarde was completely 
mistress, but she did not object to Marjorie’s 
comjiany, for Marjorie was very plodding and 
useful and self-forgetful, and Erniie liked to be 
waited on, and her complaints listened to, and 
her worries sympathized with. 

In many ways she was a commonplace child. 
She had a handsome little face, and a proud, 
overbearing manner. She thought a great 
deal more highly of herself than she ought, and 
she was a constant trial to Miss Nelson, w^ho 
was a most patient, long-suffering woman. 

Ermengarde had been directly disobedient 
that morning, and as a punishment Miss Nelson 
had decided that she was not to go in the 
carriage to meet her brothers at the railway 
station. The little girl had stared, bridled, 
drawn herself up in her haughtiest style, and 
determined openly to defy Miss Nelson. 

She had never gone to this length of rebellion 
before, and when the governess went down to 
the seashore, accompanied by two or three of 
the children, she imagined that Ermengarde 
would atfend' to her neglected lessons, and 
presently join them on the beach. 

“Marjorie,” said the governess, as she sud- 
denly met the little girl in the grounds, “ I ara 


marjokie's way. 


5 


deeply sorry, but I am forced to punish Erinen- 
garde. She is not to go to meet your brothers ; 
but would you — only, my dear child, you do 
look so dirty and untidy — would you like to go 
in the carriage ? You are a good little girl ; it 
would be a treat for you.” 

I could get cleaned in a minute,” said Mar- 
jorie. There’s my brown Holland overall, 
and Hudson could brush mv hair, and make it 
tidy.” 

Then she flushed, and the wistful, eager 
expression went out of her eyes. 

“ Perhaps I had better not,” she said. 

Why so, my dear child ? ” 

Marjorie was thinking of Ermengarde. She 
could not complain of her sister, but to sit by 
and witness her disobedience would destroy her 
own pleasure. 

“ Ermie wouldn’t like it, either,” she whispered 
under her breath. I wish I hadn’t got honest 
eyes ; Ermie says they look so horrid when 1 
don’t like a thing.” 

Well, Marjorie, are you going, or are you 
not ? ” said Miss Nelson. 

“ I think not. Miss Nelson,” said Marjorie, 
in a cheerful voice. “Nurse says Bob is sure 
to have another teething fit, so of course he’ll 
be fractious, and she’ll want me to pick up 
shells for him,” 


6 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


^‘Well, dear, you must please yourself,*’ 
answered Miss Nelson gently. 

She never praised Marjorie for being unselfish 
— no one did — they only said it w^as her way, 
and all the people with whom she came in 
contact took small kindnesses and small services, 
from her as a matter of course. 

Ermengarde was alone in her room, and the 
house was delightfully still. She waited for 
another moment, and then going over to the fire- 
place rang a bell. In a few minutes the school- 
room maid, looking very cross and astonished, 
answered the summons. 

“ Hudson, I am going out in the carriage. 
Please help me to dress,” said Ermengarde. 

And give directions that I am to be told wEen 
the carriage is ready.” 

Are you going for the young gentlemen, 
Miss Ermengarde ? ” 

Yes.” 

Then you must be quick, miss, for Macnab 
is bringing the horses round now.” 

Ermengarde had thought of making a very 
effective toilet, but she had only time to put on 
a shady hat, her best one, snatch up her parasol 
and gloves, and run downstairs. 

Mr AVilton was going himself to the station 
to meet his boys. Ermengarde w-as always 
a little afraid of her father. She stepped 


MARJORIE S WAY. 


7 


back now when slie saw him, and slightly 
colored. 

Come, Ermie,” he said good-naturedly, jump 
in! We must be off at once, or we shall not be 
in time. I suppose you have been a specially 
good girl this morning, as Miss Nelson has 
allowed you to come.” 

Ermengarde murmured something which her 
father did not quite hear. 

You have— eh?” he repeated. “Miss Nelson 
knows you are coming? It is all right, I 
suppose ? ” 

“Yes, father,” said Ermengarde. She raised 
her eyes ; then she got into the carriage with 
a curious sensation of being suddenly very 
shrunken and small. She was a rebellious, 
disobedient child, but she had not often sunk 
to deliberate falsehood. 

The drive through the summer country on 
this delightful afternoon was so invigorating, 
and Mr Wilton was so little awe-inspiring, 
and such a genuinely pleasant, witty, affec- 
tionate father that Ermengarde’s spirits rose. 
She forgot her disobedience, that horrible lie 
which fear had wrung from her lips ceased to 
trouble her, and she chatted quite gayly to her 
father. 

“Why, Ermie, what a big girl you are grow- 
ing,” he said presently, “and how well you 


8 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


express yourself ! You will be quite a com- 
panion to me when you come out.” 

Ermengarde lifted her handsome eyes. 
They sparkled with pleasure. 

^^Well, puss, what is it?” said Mr. Wilton. 

Only I do so wish I could come out 
now.” 

“ Now ? How old are you ? ” 

“ Fourteen — really, quite ” 

“We’ll talk about it, Ermie, when you are 
seventeen. Eighteen is a better age, but as 
your poor mother is not living, and I — I — want 
a companion, I — we’ll see about it.” 

“Father, I do hate Aunt Elizabeth.” 

“Pooh, what harm does she do you? You 
mustn’t have such strong likes and dislikes, 
Ermie. You are exactly like me. I was 
awfully headstrong in my time. Your aunt is 
an excellent woman. I wonder what I should 
do without her. There must be some woman 
at the head of a house, you know, puss.” 

“ When I come out, you’ll let me take care 
of your house for you, won’t you, father ? ” 

“ What a chit it is.” 

“But won’t you? Do say you will, father. 
I should so love to govern ! ” 

“I daresay. Here we are quite close to the 
station now. Easy, Macnab, don’t force the 
horses up this steep bit. Well, puss, what are 


Marjorie’s way. 


9 


you looking so eagerly at me for? So you’d 
like to govern, ek ? ” 

Oh, shouldn’t I ? Dearly, dearly ! I’d send 
Aunt Elizabeth and Miss Nelson away.” 

“Indeed! A nice household I’d be likely 
to have.” 

“ Father, I wish you would not laugh at me ! ” 

Mr. Wilton’s face generally wore an expres- 
sion of somewhat kindly sarcasm. Now a 
sudden look of tenderness came into his dark 
eyes. He turned and looked at the handsome, 
restless, dissatisfied girl at his side. 

“ I don’t want to laugh at you, Ermie,” he 
said, “but the fact is, I don’t jDrofess to under- 
stand half-fiedged creatures. If your mother 
were alive, all would be different. Well, child, 
well. I’ll see what can be done when the 
time comes. I want you to help me, of course, 
when the time comes ; that is, if you have the 
real stuff in you, if you are a true Wilton. 
All the women of our house are women of 
honor.” 

“ Honor ? ” repeated Ermengarde vaguely. 

“ Yes. Truthful, and above-board, and brave. 
Marjorie is a Wilton, every inch of her. Hullo ! 
the train is in, and there come my scamps. 
Well, Basil, here you are, sir — and Master 
Eric, too 1 Sorry to be home, eh ? I make no 
doubt you are. Now, look here, you villains, 


10 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


you are not going to tear my place to pieces. 
How many more pets, I wonder ? ” 

Only some rabbits, gov — father, I mean,” 
said Basil. 

“ That’s right, Basil — you know I don’t allow 
you to ^ governor ’ me — I like the old-fashioned 
word best. So there are some rabbits, eh ? 
How are they to get home ? ” 

Oh, they can go with the pigeons and the 
ferrets,” chimed in Eric, a small boy with a 
freckled face, and bright ruddy-gold hair. 

Isn’t the dogcart here, father ? ” asked 
Basil. 

^^No, you’re to come home in state in the 
family coach. A cart ought to be somewhere 
round for your luggage. The beasts can go in 
that.” 

^‘Oh, not the ferrets,” said Eric. “I think 
perhaps I had better walk home with the 
ferrets. They might eat through their basket, 
and get at my fantaiis.” 

Nonsense ! stow them away under this seat, 
and jump in, lads. Ho you see Ermie? She’s 
all in a flutter to kiss you.” 

“How do, Ermie?” said Eric. “Stick your 
legs well out in front, or the ferrets may bite 
’em.” 

Basil didn’t say anything, but he clasped 
Ermengarde’s slim fingers in his big brown 


Marjorie's way. 


11 


hand. Basil’s squeeze signified a good deal, 
and Ermengarde colored up, and her heart 
swelled with pride Rnd pleasure. 

Jolly weather, isn’t it?” said Basil. say, 
aren’t we going to have a time ! How are all 
the others? How’s Maggie? Are you going 
to have holidays, too, while we are having ours, 
Ermie ? ” 

Ermengarde’s face fiushed again. 

It is unfair,” she said. “ I wish you’d speak 
to father about it, Basil. We are only to have 
half-holidays. Lessons all the morning, and 
the afternoons with you. I do call it a shame ! 
It’s Aunt Elizabeth’s doing. She arranged it 
with Miss Nelson a week ago. I do wish, 
father, you’d interfere.” 

“My dear, I never dream of interfering wdth 
your Aunt Elizabeth. — A pretty mess I’d get 
into if I did [sotto voce ], — I make no doubt^ 
Ermie, it’s a very wise arrangement, and you 
fellows can have the mornings quite free for 
long expeditions or anything of that sort.” 

“ Oh, we’ll have lots of the girls in the after- 
noon,” said Eric. “I do hope that big ferret 
isn’t making his way out. He is a stunner, sir ; 
why, he killed — Ermie, keep your legs away 
— he has teeth like razors, sir, and once he 
catches on, he never lets go. He’ll suck you 
to death as likely as not. Now, what’s up?” 


THE CHILDREN OE WILTON CHASE. 


IS 


Ermengarde started from her seat. She felt 
slightly frightened, and very cross. 

“You bring home horrid pets, Eric,” she said. 
“And you have no sympathy, not a bit, and 
you are selfish, too — = — ” 

“ Oh, he’s a scamp,” interrupted Basil ; “ never 
mind him.” 

Again he stretched out his hand and took 
Ermengarde’s. 

“ Tell me all about the young ’uns,” he said. 
“How are the bees? Did you make a good 
sale of the honey? I want to buy out my 
share — come close, I’ve a secret to whisper 
to you.” 

Ermengarde and Basil talked in low excited 
tones to one another all the rest of the way 
home. Eric entertained his father with the 
exploits of his favorite ferret, and the pro- 
digious feats of prowess performed by a certain 
pouter-pigeon of rare lineage. Mr Wilton 
laughed and encouraged the boy’s chatter. 
The whole party were in high spirits when 
they drew up at the lodge gates. 


CHAPTER 11. 



ULLO, here’s Marjorie ! ” exclaimed 
Eric. He vaulted out of the car- 
riage, and flung his arms round 
Marjorie’s little squat figure,’ lifting 
her otf the ground, and squeezing her in an 
ecstasy of delight. Here I am, Mag, and 
there are two pouters in a cage, and four new 
fantails — they’re coming with the luggage — and 
I’ve got a lop-eared rabbit with black spots, 
and my ferrets — there are two of them in the 
carriage. Wait until you see Shark’s teeth — I 
call him Shark, he’s such a good ’un at biting. 
We’ll have some fun these holidays ; don’t you 
make any mistake ! ” 

^ Wes, yes, of course we will! I’m delighted, 
Eric, delighted ! Where are the ferrets ? When 
can I see them ? Oh, how are you, Basil ? 
Have you on a tight boot to-day ? Does your 
corn pinch you ? ” 

“No, I’ve got over those small ailments,” 
said Basil. “What a roundabout you are, 
Marjorie,” he continued, pinching her cheek, 
13 


14 


THE CHILBKEH OE WILTON CHASE. 


^^Now, what’s the matter? You are quite 
frowning.” 

Marjorie’s round good-humored freckled face 
wore an expression of consternation. 

I made some slippers during the term for 
you,” she said. They’re large, and I wadded 
them so that they are most comfortable. But 
— it isn’t that — the slippers are in your room, 
I put them there — Ermie, won’t you get out ? ” 
No,” said Ermengarde. I’m going to drive 
down to the house.’’ 

Marjorie frowned more than ever. 

“ They are all coming up from the shore ; 
Miss Nelson, and all of them ; and they’ll see 
the horses and they’ll run. Even Miss Nelson 
will run, she’s so fond of Basil, and ” 

Mr. AVilton, who still remained in the carriage 
by Ermengarde’s side, now interposed. 

We won’t w^ait for the small fry,” he said. 
“We’ll drive on to the house at once. Oh, 
yes, Eric, you can go to meet the party from 
the shore of course, if you like, and Basil 
too.” 

“ I’ll stay Avith Ermie,” said Basil. 

He jumped into the carriage again, and they 
drove down the long winding avenue to the 
house. 

Great elm trees shaded the avenue, and Basil 
pushed back his cap and looked up into the 


SHARK. 


15 


green. He was a dark and handsome lad, and 
his expression was unusually thoughtful for his 
years. 

“ How grand those old trees are ! ” he said. 

Whenever I think of home while I’m away, 
I remember the old elm trees in the avenue, 

and the rooks’ nests — I remember, too ” 

Here he stopped suddenly, and a wave of red 
mantled his cheeks. Ermengarde’s bright eyes 
were fixed on him; she guessed his thoughts. 
Basil had often Avalked under those elm trees 
with his mother. 

Mr. AVilton had opened the Tlmes^ and was 
not attending to the chatter of the young folk. 

You don’t look quite the thing, Errnie,” said 
Basil in a low voice. 

I’m perfectly well,” she replied. 

‘^But you turned* quite white that time at 
the lodge. I noticed it. That time when 
Marjorie wanted you to get out. Have you 
been worrying yourself lately ? You know you 
are such a girl to mope, and make mountains 
out of mole-hills. School would be the place 
for you.” 

Mr. Wilton dropped his paper. 

“ Are you recommending school for Ermen- 
garde?” he said. “Sometimes I have thought 
of it, but your mother had a prejudice against 
school-life for girls, and Errnie does very well 


16 


THE CIIlLDRElT OF WILTON CHASE. 


with Miss Nelson and the masters who come 
here to instruct her. Now here we are, and 
here’s your Aunt Elizabeth.” 

Miss Wilton Avas not a graceful AA^oman. She 
AA^as a feminine edition of her brother, and Mr. 
Wilton, although handsome as a mau, had by 
no means the type of face which best lends 
itself to Avo manly graces. 

Miss Wilton Avas standing on the steps in 
a riding-habit. Her horse had just been taken 
round to the stables. She had her Avhip in 
her hand, and her masses of hair looked untidy 
— her face, too, AA^as flushed. 

Really, Roderick,” she said to her brother, 
“ that groom is past bearing. He had the 

impertinence Oh, is that you, Basil ? So 

you’A^e come back — how are you ? Noav one 
thing I do beg, and that is, that you neA^er 
come into the house except by the side door, 
and that you and Eric keep your pets to your- 
selA^es. I don’t mind Avhat is done behind the 
schoolroom doors, but I Avill not — I cannot 
— permit messy lounging schoolboys in my part 
of the house. Roderick, Avhat is the matter? 
Are you laughing at me ? ” 

I think I am, Elizabeth,” replied Mr Wilton. 
“Boys will be boys, and no one can accuse 
Basil of lounging.” 

Miss Wilton had a very hearty loud laugh 


SHARK. 


17 


lierself. She indulged in it now, and going up 
to Basil, hit him a blow on the shoulders. 

“You’re a true Wilton,” she said. “By and 
by I’ll be proud of you — by and by I’ll want 
your help. You shall ride with me, and keep 
those lazy intolerable grooms in some sort of 
order, but just at present your place is in the 
schoolroom part of the house. Ermengarde ! 
You here? Has Miss Nelson promoted you 
to drive in the carriage ? That is an honor 
only conferred on very good children.” 

Ermengarde hated to be called a child. She 
disliked her Aunt Elizabeth’s manner to her 
at all times, and now she hushed and frowned, 
and looked decidedly unamiable. 

“Come, Basil,” she said, touching her brother 
on his arm. 

“No, miss, you’re not to go with that cross 
face on,” said her aunt. “Look pleasant, or I 
shall desire Miss Nelson on no account to 
permit you to drive with your father again. 
What is it, Boderick ? What’s the matter ? ” 

“ Leave the poor child alone,” said Mr Wilton. 
“Bun away, chicks, both of you; run olf and 
be happy. Now, Elizabeth, what is this story 
about the groom ? ” 

Ermengarde slipped her hand within Basil’s 
arm, and they both walked round to the other 
side of the house. High tea was spread in the 


THE OHILDREH OP WILTON CHASE. 

pleasant schoolroom. Miss Nelson, who looked 
worried and over-tired, was desiring her pupils 
to take their places. All the nursery children 
were to sup in the schoolroom to-night, in 
honor of the boys’ return, and nurse was 
bringing in toddling Ethel, and little Dick and 
Bobby, and placing them in their chairs, and 
then cutting bread-and-butter for them. 

Basil rushed down a side passage to a lava- 
tory to wash his hands, and Ermengarde flew 
upstairs to dispose of her best hat. Miss 
Nelson had not noticed it. 

AVhen the elder boy and girl came into the 
room the meal had commenced. Marjorie, as 
usual, was trotting from chair to chair, helping 
everyone, pushing the butter nearer to little 
Mollie, the youngest schoolroom child, stopping 
Bobby’s rebellious lips with strawberries, and 
lugging a great jug of milk in her arms, and 
with a red face, and chubby hands that would 
tremble under their load, refilling mugs of milk 
as fast as they got empty. 

‘‘That will do now, Marjorie; you can sit 
down,” called out Miss Nelson. 

Marjorie subsided at once into a seat beside 
Eric. 

“ Ermengarde,” said her governess, glancing 
quickly at her eldest pupil ; “ you are late again 
for tea. You forfeit five marks.” 


SHARK. 


19 


Oil, I say,” exclaimed Basil, I’m late, too. 
Miss Nelson. And it wasn’t Ermie’s fault, her 
being late this time ; she could not help herself. 
Why, what is the matter, Ermie ? ” 

Ermengarde had given him a shove under 
the table. He looked round at her, guessed 
that she did not wish him to say something, and 
instantly subsided into absolute silence. 

Basil was a favorite of Miss Nelson’s. He 
was a kind-hearted lad; he had something of 
Marjorie’s spirit, and was always willing to 
throw himself into breaches, to heal disputes, to 
be a sort of peacemaker and server all round. 
Miss Nelson dreaded beyond anything the long 
summer vacation when the boys were home 
from school, and the girls had only half work. 
These were the weeks for disputes, for quarrels, 
for disagreeables, for scrapes. During these 
weeks poor Miss Nelson’s hair became more 
gray, and her face more wrinkled and anxious; 
but she dreaded the holidays, not because Basil 
was at home, but on account of Eric, who was a 
perfect imp of mischief, and because all the 
home children were more or less demoralized 
by his presence. 

Now Miss Nelson smiled into Basil’s eyes, 
handed him a plate of the best strawberries, 
and after a pause, said : “ You’d like me not to 
punish Ermengarde ? ” 


20 


THE CHILD RP:N OF. WILTON CHASE. 


Of course I should ; she has done nothing 
to be punished for.” 

Again Ermengarde kicked him under the 
table. He was lifting a cup of tea to his lips, 
and part of its contents were spilt on the white 
tablecloth, and over his own shirt-cuff. Basil 
liated messes and awkward ways of doing things. 
He gave Ermengarde a return kick of some 
force, murmured, You’re a perfect muff, Ermie,” 
and then looked up, with his momentary annoy- 
ance gone, at Miss Nelson. 

“ Thank you for excusing Ermengarde,” he 
said. She’s under my command now. I’m 
her captain. I’ll see that she’s in good time in 
the future.” 

^AVell, Ermengarde, you may consider your- 
self excused,” said the governess. ^‘I hope you 
have thoroughly mastered your imposition. If 
so, as you must want fresh air, you may go out 
with Basil for an hour after tea.” 

Basil glanced at his sister’s blooming and 
blushing face. As he did not want to be 
kicked any more, however, he was silent. 
Marjorie had left her seat, and was bringing 
all the cups up to Miss Nelson to be refilled 
with tea. As the governess poured some hot 
water into the teapot she turned again to Er- 
mengarde, Do you know your piece of poetry, 
Ermie?” 


SHARK. 


21 


Ermengarde said “ Yes.” This happened to 
be true, for the poem selected for her punish- 
ment lesson was “ Casablanca,” which she admired 
very much, and had long ago committed to 
memory for pleasure. 

‘‘Yes, I know it quite well, thank you. Miss 
Nelson,” she said in a cheerful voice. 

The clouds had left her face ; she was now in 
an excellent humor. To be with Basil was 
always delightful to her, and she sincerely 
hoped that her disobedience and open defiance 
of authority might never be discovered. If it 
was, she was prepared to defend her action, 
but she had an intuition that Basil w^ould dis- 
approve. His good opinion was of the utmost 
value to her : she loved Basil ; she had no 
particular affection for any other human being, 
unless, perhaps, her ‘father; but Basil’s presence 
caused a warm satisfied glow to steal around 
her heart. 

Miss Nelson had supplied all the second cups 
of tea. She was again at liberty to ask her 
favorite a question. 

“ Basil, I should like to ask you in confidence, 
has Eric brought home any strange pets this 
time ? ” 

Basil’s eyes sparkled. 

“ Only two ferrets,” he said; “and two carrier 
pigeons, and two fan tails, and a pouter (Eric is 


22 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


dead nuts on that pouter), and a lop-eared 
rabbit. I think that’s all. I have some pups, 
too,” he added modestly, but they are coming 
by parcel-post to-morrow.” 

By parcel-post, Basil ! ” here almost screamed 
Marjorie. Oil, I hope they won’t be squashed.” 

Silence, children ! ” said the governess. A 
red spot had risen on both her cheeks. I had 
hoped no more pets were coming. And ferrets ! 

I dread ferrets. Now the pups ” 

But they’re of a very wicked breed,” 
shouted Eric. They’re worse than my ferret 
Shark. They are young bloodhounds. Don’t 
you deny it, Basil. You know you gave a sov. 
for them to Dandy Macjones.” 

But they are quite harmless at present,” 
said Basil. “ There are only two ; they haven’t 
arrived yet. They’ll come by post, or train, or 
something to-morrow. When they do come. 
I’ll promise to be careful.” 

“ Yes. Basil, I believe you are a boy to be 
trusted. — Eric ! ” 

What is it, ma’am ? ” 

Eric put on a comical face, which set all the 
nursery children laughing. 

Stand up, Eric. AVhile you are at home, at 
least whenever you are in the schoolroom — in 
fact, I may say always — you have got to yield 
to my authority.” 


SHARK. 


23 


Thank you, ma’am. I didn’t know it, ma’am.” 

Eric pulled his forelock after the fashion 
of a charity schoolboy. The nursery children 
clapped their hands with delight, and a wave of 
color swept over Miss Nelson’s face. 

‘‘1 say, shut up and be respectful,” growled 
Basil. 

Eric glanced at his brother. His whole 
funny face became rigid except his eyes, which 
still danced with mirth. He folded his hands 
on his breast, and said in a demure, mincing 
tone, I beg your pardon. Miss Nelson.” 

Even the governess had to smile. 

‘‘ It is granted, my dear boy. Now with 
regard to your pets. The rabbits are not to be 
in the house.” 

“ Oh, no, ma’am.” 

“ There’s no rabbit-hutch.” 

I’ll stow them somewhere, Miss Nelson.” 

“ See you do. The pigeons can share the 
dovecotes, I suppose.” 

Very well. Miss Nelson.” 

^^The ferrets ” here Miss Nelson almost 

shivered. Dangerous, disgusting beasts ! ” 

“ I say, don’t,” exclaimed Eric. “ Shark’s a 
stunner ! ” 

Their teeth,” continued the governess. I 
have heard that their teeth can penetrate through 
any obstacle.” 


24 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASF- 


“ Shark’s teeth ! ” pursued Eric. “ Well, they 
ought to be strong ; he has six rows ; when he 
opens his mouth they start upright.” 

“ Six rows ! Nonsense, Eric. Please don’t talk 
in that silly way. And once for all understand 
that I cannot allow that animal to be kept on the 
premises.” 

“ But he’s a stunner,” said Eric. Shall I 
bring him in for you to see ? ” 

You must not attempt it, sir. It is awful to 
think of such a horrid creature being so close 
to one, and I forbid you to bring it into the 
house.” 

“You shall see him, you shall see him,” said 
Eric. “ He’s a perfect tip-topper. He’d kill any- 
thing. I paid five bob for him, and six ginger- 
beers, and ten and a half Betty cakes.” 

“ Silence, Eric ; I shall have to speak to your 
father. Keep the ferret in his basket or box 
until I can have a word with Mr. Wilton.” 

“ But he’ll starve, ma’am. He’d gnaw you if he 
was starving.” 

“ That will do. Leave the table now, all chil- 
dren. I can let you know before bed-time, Eric, 
what is to be done with that monster.” 


CHAPTER III. 

ERMENGARDe’s ST IS". 



ATE that evening, after the young 
folk had gone to bed, Miss Nelson, 
having attired herself in a very neat 
black silk dress, with ruffles of real 
lace round her neck and wrists, her best brooch 
at her throat, and a pretty little head-dress of 
lace and ribbon becomingly arranged over her 
iron-gray hair, went down past the schoolroom, 
past the heavy oak door which divided the 
children’s part of the house from that portion 
where, according to Ermengarde, all the gay 
life and all the fun went on, and hnally tapped 
at Mr. Wilton’s study-door. 

It so happened that there were no visitors 
staying at Wilton Chase to-night ; many friends 
were expected the following day, but to-night 
Miss Nelson knew that she would find Mr. 
Wilton and probably his sister disengaged. 

Her tap was responded to by a hearty Come 
in ! ” She was right. Mr. and Miss Wilton 
were both in the study. Miss Wilton was 
seated at her davenport scribbling off letters at 



26 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


furious speed, and Mr. AVilton was indulging in 
a cigar by the open window, 

Well, Miss Nelson,” he said courteously; 
“ I am glad to see you.” 

He placed a chair for the governess, and 
waited for her to speak. 

I have come ” said Miss Nelson. 

She cleared her throat, she felt a little 
nervous. 

I have come about a — a shark ” 

Oh ! oh ! ” exclaimed Miss AVilton. She 
quite jumped, and the pen dropped from her 
hand. ^‘You hear her, Roderick. How inter- 
esting ! Has one been seen oft the coast ? ” 

“ I mean a ferret,’^ said Miss Nelson. Its 
name is Shark. I’ve got confused. Pray 
pardon me. One of the boys has brought it 
home.” 

^‘Oh, Eric,” said Mr AVilton. ^^I heard him 
chattering about it, the little scamp. AVell, 
Miss Nelson,” he could not help laughing. Has 
that young prodigy of mine tried to frighten 
you unnecessarily.” 

“He did say the creature had six rows of 
teeth,” said Aliss Nelson ; “ of course that is 
nonsense,; but is a ferret a safe animal to have 
in the house, with so many young children 
about, and nurse not too careful ? ” 

“Certainly not. Thank you for coming and 


ermengarde’s sin. 


■27 


telling ns about it, Miss Nelson. Ferrets are 
not safe creatures to have near children, and 
Eric’s shall be removed to the gamekeeper’s 
to-morrow.” 

Miss Nelson rose at once to leave the room. 

Sit down. Miss Nelson,” suddenly interrupted 
Miss AVilton. As you are here I have just a 
word to say to you. Do you think it well to 
allow Ermeno:arde to drive in the carria2:e with- 
out your escort. It so happened that my 
brother was able to accompany her to-day but 
I — of course I don’t like to interfere — still I 
should have thought that it was scarcely wise. 
Ermengarde is inclined to be too forward as 
it is.” 

‘‘ Ermie in the carriage to-day ! ” exclaimed 
Miss Nelson. She forgot to keep her seat. 
She stood up, her pale face was deeply hushed. 
“ Impossible, Miss AVilton ! Pardon me, you 
must be mistaken. Ermengarde was not — not 
quite — she infringed some of my rules, and I 
was obliged to give her a detention lesson. She 
certainly did ask to go and meet her brothers, 
but I was obliged to refuse. Ermie spent the 
afternoon indoors.” 

Aliss AVilton sounded a gong by her side. A 
page appeared, to whom she gave some letters. 

“ See they are posted at once,” she said. Then 
she turned to the window. Koderick, are 


28 


THE CHILBREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


you asleep, or did you Lear wLat Miss Nelson 
said ? ” 

beg your pardon, my dear, I confess I 
was not attending. I tliougLt you ladies were 
discussino; some domestic matter.” 

“ We were ; a very domestic matter. Roderick, 
kindly tell Miss Nelson wLo was your com- 
panion to the railway station this afternoon.” 

Why, Ermengarde, of course. And very 
pleasant she made herself. I was going to 
tell you. Miss Nelson, when I had the oppor- 
tunity, how pleased I am with the progress 
of your pupil.” 

Thank you,” said Miss Nelson. The flush 
on her face had changed to pallor. 

^‘You did not know of this?” continued Miss 
Wilton eagerly. “ You are astonished ! ” 

Miss Nelson was silent for several seconds. 

“ I will speak to Ermie,” she said ; then in 
a low voice, there has been a misunder- 
standing.” 

She did not add any more, and Mr. Wilton, 
thinking that the governess looked tired and 
ill, tried to engage her in some general con- 
versation. She answered a question or two in 
a very abstracted manner, and presently left 
the room. 

Miss Nelson had a private sitting-room, 
which was not thrown open to her pupils. It 


ekmeitgarde’ S SIK. 


29 


was a tiny room, but tbe governess loved it 
very much. She kept her favorite photo- 
graphs here, and her best prized books. Here 
she was absolutely her own mistress, and she 
sometimes called the little room Home, sweet 
Home.” Miss Nelson was a well-educated 
woman ; she was between forty and fifty 
years of age ; she had a staid and somewhat 
cold manner, but she was a good discipli- 
narian, and thoroughly conscientious. When 
Mrs. Wilton had died three years ago. Miss 
Nelson had come to the Chase. Mrs. Wilton 
on her deathbed had asked her husband to 
secure Miss Nelson’s services, if possible, for 
the children, and this fact alone would have 
prevented his ever parting with the governess. 

Miss Nelson was all that was honorable 
and kind, but a sort - of impenetrable reserve 
prevented her showing the real affection she 
felt for her pupils. Consequently Ermengarde 
disliked her, Lucy tolerated lier, the nursery 
children were supremely indifferent to her, 
and Marjorie alone loved her. This latter 
fact did not raise Miss Nelsgn in anyone’s 
estimation. It was Marjorie’s fashion to love 
people ; it would have been unnatural, uncanny 
to hear round, good humored Marjorie abusing 
people. Marjorie’s affection was bestowed on 
all creatures, therefore being common, it was, 


80 


THE CIIILDKEN OP WILTOH CHASE. 


in Ermie’s opinion at least, a rather worthless 
thing to secure. 

Miss Nelson went into her private room 
now, shut and locked the door, sat down 
in her easy-chair, and burst into tears. She 
was shocked at Ermengarde’s disobedience ; 
Ermie’s open defiance of her authority almost 
terrified her. She loved all the children whom 
she taught, she would have done anything, 
gone to the length of any sacrifice, for their 
sakes. She wanted them to grow up good, 
honorable, worthy of their mother, Avhose 
memory she revered. It was easy to prophesy 
a bright future for Marjorie. Little Lucy, 
too, was a fairly amenable child ; but Ermen- 
garde, who was as proud and reserved as Miss 
Nelson herself — the governess trembled when 
she reflected how small was her power over 
this wayward child. 

She thought for a long time; three courses 
of action were open to her. She might go 
to Mr. Wilton, open her heart to him, tell 
him all her doubts and fears, and ask him to 
remove Ermengarde from her care. Or she 
might talk to the little girl, tell her that she 
would shield her from her father’s anger, show 
her in gentle words how wrong her action had 
been, assure her of the deep love she really 
felt for her, and finally forgive her. Or again 


ermekgakde’s sin. 


31 


she might speak severely to Ermengarde, and 
her severe words might be followed by severe 
discipline. She could promise not to reveal her 
pupil’s guilt to Mr. Wilton, but the punishment 
she would herself inflict would be a grave 
one. 

Miss Nelson thought far into the night, 
Before she went to bed, she decided to pursue 
the last idea which came to her, for it seemed 
quite plain to her own mind that Errnengarde’s 
sin could not be expiated except through 
punishment. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 

ARLY the next morning Marjorie 
stirred in her white bed. Then she 
opened her eyes, raised her head 
from her comfortable pillow, and gazed 
aronnd her. 

Ermie was fast asleep. The sun was pouring 
into the room ; the clock on the mantelpiece 
pointed to six. 

Softly, very softly, Marjorie poked her pink 
toes from under the bedclothes. Then the 
whole of her feet appeared, then she stood 
upright on the floor. No one should help 
her over her toilet this morning ; she would 
dress, and go out into the garden. The boys 
were at home; it was going to be a brilliant 
day. Marjorie’s contented heart danced within 
her. She washed and dressed herself with 
expedition. It was not necessary to be particu- 
larly quiet, for nothing ever disturbed Errnen- 
garde’s slumbers. 

Having dressed and plaited her thick hair as 
well as she could without aid, she knelt down 
32 



THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


33 


by lier bedside, clasped ber bands over ber 
plump face, and repeated ber prayers. Once, 
long ago now, Mrs. Wilton bad given tbe 
cbildren, Marjorie among tbem, a little model 
prayer to repeat. One of tbe phrases in it 
was this : Please make me a faithful servant 

of Jesus Christ.” 

Marjorie remembered quite well tbe first 
time she bad used this prayer. She recalled 
tbe expression on ber mother’s face, and could 
have told anyone who asked ber ber mother’s 
explanation of tbe word servant. 

The other cbildren bad forgotten tbe model 
prayer, but Marjoiie used it always. Every 
morning she asked God to make ber a faithful 
servant. It was not at all difficult for this 
bumble little girl really to pray. No one in 
tbe bouse guessed at Marjorie’s prayer, or 
troubled their beads about ber comforting, 
comfortable, unselfish ways. She was there, 
a plain child, useful enough, and obliging 
enough, but no one thanked ber, or wondered 
if they should miss ber if she were not in tbe 
bouse. 

She was leaving tbe room this morning, 
when Ermengarde stirred and opened her eyes. 

Is that you, Maggie ? oh, you’re dressed. 
Don’t go for a minute, I want to speak to 
you.” 


34 


THE CHILDREN OP WILTON CHASE. 


Marjorie closed the door which she had half 
opened, and went and stood by Ermengarde’s 
bed. 

Well? ” she said. 

“ I’m sleepy ; it’s frightfully early. If I 
talk to you, I’ll get wide-awake. Can’t you 
just wait in the room for a little ? ” 

“I’m going into the garden, and I’ll come 
back again, Ermie. Eric may be up, and he 
has promised to show me Shark. I don’t 
believe he has got six rows of teeth.” 

“ How you chatter, Maggie ! Now I’m quite 
woke up. I’ll have a headache most likely 
this afternoon. I generally do when my first 
sleep is disturbed.” 

“ You have had a very long first sleep,” said 
Marjorie. “ It’s half-past six o’clock.” 

“ Is it ? It’s all the same to me what the 
time is ; I’m woke up now, and it’s your fault. 
You might be considerate, Maggie; you’re the 
most thoughtless child. If you had sat quietly 
by my bedside I wouldn’t be wide-awake now.” 

“ W ell, what can I do for j^ou now that you 
are awake, Ermie ? ” asked Marjorie. “ Please 
tell me quickly, for I can’t keep Eric waiting.” 

“ Oh, it will be all Eric with you from this 
out. I might have guessed that.” 

“No, it won’t. It will be all everybody. 
Now, what am I to do for you ? ” 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


35 


Ermeno-arde laughed. 

o o 

‘‘ Maggie, don’t put on that solemn face. Of 
course you are a good little thing. Now listen. 
Last iiight Basil and I made a plan.” 

O Ermie ! Weren’t you in luck that Miss 
Nelson never found out about your wickedness 
yesterday ? ” 

My wickedness ? ” 

Ermengarde colored brightly. 

Don’t you remember, Ermie? Going in 
the carriage when Miss Nelson told you not. 
Of course you were dreadfully wicked, but I’m 
glad you were not found out. Now, what’s the 
plan ? ” 

‘Wou’re so rude and frank, Maggie. It’s a 
horrid habit you have. I had forgotten all about 
that drive. And now you remind me and spoil 
my pleasure. You are a tactless creature ! ” 
Never mind about me. What’s the plan ? ” 

“ It’s this. Dear, I hope the day is fine ! ” 

Yes, Ermie, it’s a lovely day.” 

“Well, Basil thinks — are you sure the sky is 
not cloudy, Mag ? ” 

“ No, perfect, not a flake anywhere ; go on, 
Ermie.” 

“ Jolly ! Basil thinks we ought to have a whole 
holiday to-day — we girls, I mean. He says we 
might have a picnic, and go up the lake, and land 
and dine on Pearl Island,” 


36 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Lovely ! ” said Marjorie, clasping her hands. 

Only Miss Nelson said ” 

“ That’s just it, you always will think first of 
Miss Nelson.” 

^^Ermie, you said I thought first of Eric a 
minute ago.” 

That’s another of your horrid habits, casting 
one’s words up to one.” 

Marjorie clasped her hands in front of her, 
and closed her lips. Her round face looked 
stubborn. 

“ I’m sure Eric is in the garden,” she said. 

“ I’ll let you go in a minute, you imjiatient 
child. Of course Miss Nelson' w^ants us to 
have lessons, but of course father is the person 
we must really obey. I know father is going 
to London to-day, and he will leave by the 
early train. And what I want you to do is 
this, Maggie ; to wait about for father, and 
catch him, and get him to consent to give us 
a holiday to-day. If he says so, of course Miss 
Nelson has got to submit.” 

^^All right,” said Marjorie. don’t mind 

a bit. Eric and I can watch for the carriage, 
and perhaps Macnab will let us drive round 
to the house. Then we’ll do our b'est to get 
father to consent.” 

She did not wait to exchange any more words 
with her sister, but dashed out of the room. 


THE HAY OF THE PICNIC. 


37 


At eight o’clock the schoolroom party assem- 
bled for breakfast. Miss Nelson had decided 
not to say anything to Ermengarde until tlie 
meal was over. Her salutation of the little 
girl was scarcely more cold than usual, and 
Erniie sat down to the breakfast- table without 
the least idea that her delinquency of the day 
before had been discovered. 

Marjorie was the late one on this occasion. 
She rushed into the room with her hair iin- 
.plaited and her cheeks glowing. 

“ A holiday ! a holiday ! ” she cried. Father 
has asked yon to give ns a holiday, please, Miss 
Nelson, in honor of the boys. A lovely 
whole holiday! Father has gone to London, 
but he scribbled you a message on this card. 
Here it is ! You’ll say yes, won’t you. Miss 
Nelson ? and oh, it is such a lovely day 1 ” 

Get your hair plaited propei*ly, Marjorie, 
and come and sit down to breakfast,” said her 
governess. She received Mr. Wilton’s card 
without comment. 

Ermengarde and Basil, however, exchanged 
delighted glances, and Basil, bending forward in 
that courteous way which always won the heart 
of the governess, said, “You will let us all have 
the holiday together, as my father wishes it ? ” 

“ You can go, of course, Basil,” replied Miss 
Nelson. 


38 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Slie laid a stress on the word you,” but 
neither Basil nor Ermengarde noticed it. 
They began to chat together over the delights 
of the day which lay before them. The holi- 
day spirit was caught up by the younger chil- 
dren, and soon an uproar and excitement of 
delight arose, Avhich even Miss Nelson could 
not stem. 

In the midst of the general hubbub, she 
touched Ermengarde on her shoulder. 

“I want a word with you, my dear. Come 
with me.” 

In some astonishment Ermengarde rose to 
comply. The governess took her into her own 
little room. 

Shut the door,” she said. 

She sat down herself, and Ermengarde stood 
before her. Her face was pale, her voice 
shook. 

Ermengarde, will you now repeat your 
imposition poem.” 

Casabianca,” said Ermengarde. She had felt 
a vague sense of uneasiness at Miss Nelson’s 
manner. Now her brow cleared. She recited 
the whole poem with scarcely a mistake, and 
with some show of feeling. 

^^You have said it well,” said the governess. 

It relates the extraordinary exploit of a noble- 
hearted child. I grieve to say there are few 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


39 


such in the world. May I ask you when you 
learned this poem, Ermengarde ? ” 

Yesterday ” began Ermengarde. 

“ No, don’t go on. I will save you, I must 
save you, poor child, from yourself. You would 
tell another lie. You would deceive again. 
Ermie, I have loved you. I — I — have suffered 
for you.” 

“ I don’t know what you mean,” said Ermen- 
garde, in a voice which shook with anger. “ Am 
I to be — are dreadful things to be said of me ? 
Why do you accuse me of telling lies ? Why ? ” 

“ No more, my dear pupil. For, notwithstand- 
ing your refractory and rebellious state, you are 
still my dear pupil.” 

You are not my dear teacher, there ! ” 

“ Plush, I cannot permit impertinence ! 
Ermengarde, I did not look for open and 
direct disobedience from you. You are full of 
faults, but I did not think deceit was one of 
them. I have found out about your drive yester- 
day.” 

Oh ! ” said Ermie. Her face grew very pale. 
^^Did — did Marjorie tell you? If I thought 
that ” 

“No matter who told me. Don’t blame your 
sister. She’s worth twenty of you. Think of 
your own sin. Ermengarde, you have hurt me 
deeply.” 


40 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


I don’t care,” said Ermengarde. “ I said I’d 
go, and I went. I don’t care.” 

Poor child ! I can only be very sorry for 
you. I can only pray God to bring you to a dif- 
ferent state of mind. You thought to hide your 
sin from me. God knew it all the time.” 

Ermengarde shuffled from one foot to another. 
There was not a trace of repentance about her 
face or manner. 

“ At one time I thought I must tell all to your 
father.” 

Ermengarde started at this. 

I resolved not to do so.” 

Her face grew relieved. 

But, Ermengarde,” continued the governess, 
it is my duty, my solemn duty, to punish you 
severely. The full extent of that punishment 
I have not yet determined on, but to-day you 
spend in this room, where your meals will be 
brought to you.” 

‘‘ Oh, no, no ; not that,” said Ermengarde 
suddenly. Not to-day, not the holiday ! Let 
my punishment begin to-morrow, please. Miss 
Nelson. Do say yes. Miss Nelson. It would 
be terrible not to have the holiday with Basil, 
and for Basil to know the reason. Do yield on 
this point, please. Miss Nelson, please, please, 
and I’ll try to be a better girl in future, I will 
truly.” 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


41 


“No, Ermengarde ; the punishment, being 
merited and severe, must begin on the day you 
feel it most. I am sorry for you, but I cannot, 
I dare not yield. God helf) you, poor child, to 
a sorrow which leads to repentance.” 

The governess left the room, locking the door 
behind her. 

Ermengarde stood quite still for a moment, as 
if she was stunned. Then she rushed to the 
door and tried to open it. 

Miss Nelson went back to the schoolroom. 

“You can have your holiday, children,” she 
said. “Ermengarde cannot come, nor am I at 
liberty to explain her absence. No, Basil ; you 
must not ask me. You must be happy without 
your sister to-day, and trust that what is right 
is being done for her. Now, about the picnic. 
Maggie, come here, my love. You shall take 
a message to cook.” 

“You’ll come too, won’t you. Miss Nelson?” 
asked Marjorie. 

“I must, my dear. I could not allow wild 
young creatures like you to embark on such an 
expedition without me.” 

“And may all the babies come. Miss Nelson?” 

“Yes, if nurse can accompany them.” 

“ It seems a pity about poor Ermie.” 

“Do not speak of her, Marjorie. You must 
trust your governess to do what is right.” 


42 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Marjorie’s round face looked full of concern. 
She had a way of putting her finger to her lip 
when she was harassed about anything. This 
trick gave her the appearance of a great over- 
grown baby. 

Go at once and see the cook, my dear,” said 
the governess. 

Marjorie turned and left the room. In the 
passage she met Basil. 

‘‘ What is this about Ermie ? ” he said at once, 
think I know,” said Marjorie. think I 
can guess.” 

“ You’ll tell me, won’t you, Maggie ? ” 

I don’t think I can, Basil. Ermie is a little 
— little — headstrong, and Miss Nelson, some- 
times Miss Nelson is severe to Ermie.” 

I shan’t like her if she is,” said Basil. “ I 
don’t care a bit about the picnic without Ermen- 
garde, and I do consider it provoking of Miss 
Nelson to keep Ermie at home on my very first 
holiday.” 

^^Oh, but you know she must maintain dis- 
cipline,” said Marjorie, putting her finger to her 
lip again. 

Basil burst out laughing. 

Don’t use such solemn words, Mag,” he said. 
“ You are only a baby ; words of wisdom don’t 
suit you a bit.” 

I’m eleven,” said Marjorie, in a hurt voice. 


THE BAY OF THE FlCNlC. 


43 


She ran off to the kitchen, and delivered her 
message. The cook, who was fond of good- 
humored little Marjorie, consulted her about 
the viands. She replied solemnly, and tried to 
look interested, but the zest had gone out of 
her voice. The first moment she had to spare 
she rushed to her school-desk, and scribbled a 
note. 

“ Dear Ermie,” she said, I’m miserable that 
the wickedness is discovered. Don’t be a bit 
frightened though, for Basil shan’t guess any- 
thing. Your fond sister, Marjorie Wilton.” 

This note Marjorie inclosed in one of her 
favorite envelopes, with a forget-me-not wreath 
in blue on the fiap, and before the schoolroom 
party started for the picnic, she pushed it under 
the door of Miss Nelson’s sitting-room. 

Ermengarde had expended her first rage, 
and she waS very glad to pick up Majorie’s 
note, and to read it. At first the contents 
of the note gave her a slight feeling of satis- 
faction, and a glow of gratitude to her little 
sister rushed over her. But then she remem- 
bered Miss Nelson’s words, and the conviction 
once more ran through her mind that Marjorie 
must have been the one to tell. 

“ She is a canting little tiling,” said Ermen- 
garde in a passion. My wickedness, indeed ! 
Who else would call an innocent drive wicked- 


44 


THE CHILDREN OE WILTON CHASE. 


ness? Oh, yes; she let out the *^whole story 
to Miss Nelson, and now she wants to come 
round me with this letter, after her horrid 
tell-tale way. Little monkey ! Horrid, ugly 
little thing, too. Tell-tale- tit, your tongue 
shall be slit. No, no. Miss Marjorie; you need 
not suppose that this note blinds me ! I know 
what you’ve done to me, and I’ll never forgive 
you — never, as long as I live ! ” 

Ermengarde now tore up the poor little 
letter, and opening the window scattered the 
tiny fragments to the breeze. Once again her 
anger scarcely knew any bounds. They were 
away, the Avhole happy party, and she was 
shut up in a dull room, compelled to endure 
solitary confinement all through this glorious 
August day. It was insufferable, it Avas 
maddening, and it Avas all Marjorie’s fault ! 

It is astonishing how soon the mind, Avhen 
angry, can establish Avithin itself a fixed idea. 
Miss Nelson had said nothing to really draAV 
suspicion on Marjorie, and yet Ermengarde Avas 
now thoroughly coiiAunced that the little girl 
had been the one to tell of her misdemeanor. 
She did not trouble herself to examine proofs. 
All Marjorie’s amiable and good-natured Avays 
were as nothing to Ermengarde then. She 
had certainly told, and as long as she liA^ed 
Ermie Avould neA^er forgive her. 


THE DAY OF THE PlClSriC. 


45 


Just then, while her anger was at its height, 
she heard a low whistle under the open window. 
She. rushed over to it, and popped out her head. 
Basil was standing underneath. 

“ Don’t, Basil,” said Ermengarde ; “ do go 

away, please. I hate you to find me here a 
prisoner.” 

“ Oh, stuff, Ermie, don’t be tragic over it. 
It’s only for a day at the most, and what’s a 
day ? ” 

“What’s a day? One of your holidays — the 
first of your holidays ! ” 

“ Well, there are lots more to follow. Bear it 
with a good grace. It will soon be over.” 

“ Basil, I thought you had gone with the 
others.” 

“I wasn’t ready, and Maggie has promised to 
send the boat back for me.” 

“ Maggie ! As if she could give orders.” 

“ She can remind other people though. I’d back 
Maggie any day never to forget what a fellow 
wants.” 

“ Oh, yes, she’s first with everyone. It’s a very 
nasty stilling hot day.” 

“Poor Ermie, you’re cross, so you see every- 
thing distorted. You know whose pet you 
are, as well as possible — and the day is perfect, 
superb.” 

“ Am I really your pet, Basil ? ” 


46 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


You conceited puss, you know you are. So is 
Maggie, too. She’s a little darling.” 

The latter part of Basil’s speech brought the 
cloud once again to Ermengarde’s face. 

Oh, of course Maggie is everyone’s pet,” she 
said. 

Her brother interrupted her. Don’t begin 
that nonsense over again, Erinie ; it’s too childish. 
You are under punishment, I don’t know for 
what. Of course I’m awfully vexed. But why 
abuse poor little Mag ? I say, though, do you 
like apples ? ” 

Apples ? Pretty well.” 

You mean awfully. I have brought you some 
beauties.” 

“ How can I get them ? I’m a prisoner here.” 

Oh, rot about your being a prisoner. Well, 
fair lady, you see if your knight can’t come to 
your assistance. Now, catch ! ” 

He threw up a small piece of cord which he had 
weighted with lead. Ermengarde secured it. 

Pull, pull away ! You will soon be in posses- 
sion of the spoil.” 

Ermengarde pulled, and presently a dainty 
basket, which she recognized as Majorie’s most 
treasured receptacle for her working things, was 
grasped by her willing hands. 

“Now, good-by, Ermie. I’m off. The boat 
will be back by now. Of course I shan’t 


THE HAY OE TllE PlCHlO. 


47 


botanize without you to-day, never fear. By- 
by; eat your apples, and reflect on the short- 
ness of a single day.” 

Basil bounded across the lawn, cleared the 
haha at the end, and disappeared from view. 

His inteiwiew with Ermengarde had both 
a soothing and a tonic effect on her. She felt 
almost cheerful as she sat by the open window, 
and munched her apples. That basket con- 
tained more than apples. There was one large 
peach, and two slices of rich plumcake were 
stowed away under the fruit. Then, perhaps 
dearest possession of all, Marjorie’s own special 
copy of “ Alice in Wonderland ” lay at the bottom 
of the basket. 

After making a hearty meal of the fruit 
and cake, Ermengarde drew Miss Nelson’s 
own easy-chair in front of the window, and 
taking up Marjorie’s book began to read. She 
felt almost comfortable now ; the punishment was 
not so unbearable when a brother sympathized 
and a sister lent of her best. The precious 
little copy of “Alice” had received a stain 
from the juice of the peach, and Ermen- 
garde tried to wipe it out, and felt sorry for its 
owner. 

After all Marjorie was good-natured, and if 
she had been base enough to tell, she had at 
least the grace to be sorry afterward. Ermen- 


48 


I’llE CIIILDniiN OF WILTOK CHASE. 


garde tlioiight slie would ask Marjorie wken 
she had told, how she had told, aud Avhere. 
She felt that she must believe her little sister, 
for no one had ever heard even the semblance of 
an untruth pass Marjorie’s honest lips. 

Ermengarde sat on, and tried to lose herself 
in Alice’s adventures. She was not at all sorry 
for her disobedience of the day before, but she 
was no longer in a state of despair, for her 
punishment seemed finite, and but for the 
thought of the wild ha]3piness of the others, 
her present state was scarcely unendurable. 

Just then, raising her eyes, she saw a little 
girl walking down one of the side-paths which 
led round to the kitchens. She was a girl 
scarcely as tall as herself, neatly dressed in a 
pink cotton frock and white sun-bonnet. Her 
legs were encased in nice black stockings, and 
her small dainty feet wore shining shoes with 
buckles. Ermengarde instantly dropped her 
book, leaned half out of the window, and called 
in a loud voice, Susy— Susy — Susan Collins! 
come here ! ” 

Little Susan raised an extremely pretty face, 
blushed, laughed, and ran gayly forward. 

^Hs that you, Miss Ermengarde?” she said. 
“I thought you were away with the others. 
Father has helped to take them up to Pearl 
Island, better than two hours ago now.” 


The day oe the picnic. 


40 


“Did they look happy, Susy? Tell me about 
them. Did you see them go ? ” 

^^Yes, miss, I was standing behind the rose- 
hedge. Miss Maggie, she did laugh wonderful^ 
and Master Eric, he Just dashed in to give us his 
ferrets to take care of for him, miss.” 

And was Basil there, Susy ? ” 

“ ISTo, miss, they went off without him. I 
heard father say he’d bring back the boat for 
Master Basil, and I thought for sure you’d be 
going with him, miss. I hope. Miss Ermengarde, 
you ain’t ill.” 

“ I’m not ill in body, Susan. But I’ve been 
most basely treated. I’ve been betrayed.” 

Oh, my word ! ” said Susan Collins. She 
pushed back her sun-bonnet, and revealed her 
whole charming curly golden head. She was a 
beautiful little girl, and Ermengarde had long ago 
made a secret friend of her. 

I’ve been betrayed, Susy,” continued Ermie. 

But I can’t tell you by whom. Only some one 
lias told tales about me, and so I have been 
punished, and have been locked up in this room. 
I’m locked up now ; I can’t get out. I’m a 
prisoner ! ” 

Ermengarde felt her woes all the more keenly 
as she related them. Susy’s blue eyes grew 
bright with pity. 

Ain’t it cruel ? ” she said. “ I call it base to 


bo THE CHILHHEH OE WlLTOH CHASE. 

punisli a lady like you, Miss Ermengarde, and 
you one of tlie best of created mortals.” 

It’s Miss Nelson,” said Ermengarde. Sbe’s 
dreadfully prejudiced ; I find it almost impossible 
to endure her.” 

I never did tkink nothing of that governess,” 
said Susan with vigor. It ain’t for me to say 
it, but she don’t seem fit company for the like of 
you. Miss Ermengarde. If I was you, I’d pay her 
out, that I would.” 

“ Oh, I have more than her to pay out,” said 
Ermengarde. I have been very unkindly 
treated.” 

That you have, miss, I’m sure.” 

Susy’s sympathy was very sweet to Ermen- 
garde. She leaned farther out of the window, and 
looked down at the pretty little girl. 

I’m glad you were passing, Susy,” she 
said. 

I’ll stay for a bit, if you like, miss. I’m in no 
sort of a hurry.” 

“ I wish you could come and sit with me, Susy ; 
I can’t shout to you from the window. People 
who are passing may hear us.” 

“ That they may, miss. There never was a 
truer saying than that trees have ears.” 

Ermengarde looked round her apprehensively. 
She had been many times forbidden to have 
any intercourse wdth Susan Collins, whose 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


51 


father, although he retained his post as game- 
keeper, was regarded by Mr. Wilton as a some- 
what shady character. Ermengarde fancied she 
liked Susy because of the little girl’s remarkable 
beauty, but the real reason why her fancy was 
captivated was because Susy was an adroit flat- 
terer. 

When she spoke about trees having ears, 
Ermengarde glanced to right and left. 

Perhaps you had better go,” she said. I 
have got into one scrape. 1 don’t want to get 
into a second.” 

“ There’s no one round yet, miss. The men are 
all at their dinners.” 

W ell, but some of the house-servants.” 

There are none of them in sight, Miss 
Ermengarde. Do you think I’d get you 
into trouble on my account ? Oh, dear, I 
wish I could come up and sit with you for a 
little.” 

“ I wish you could, Susy.” 

“Well, miss, it’s easy done, if you’ll only say 
the word.” 

“What do you mean? This door is locked. 
Hudson has to bring me my meals, and no one 
in all the world can bribe Hudson to open the 
door.” 

“ I don’t want her to, miss. Oh, Miss Ermen- 
garde, you are treated ’ard.” 


• 52 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Yes, Susy, I am treated very hard. Well, as 
you can’t come and keep me company, you had 
better go away.” 

But I can come to you, miss. A locked door 
won’t keep me out. I’ll hide my basket of eggs 
behind that laurel bush, and then I’ll be with you 
in a jiffy.” 

“ Can you really come ? What fun ! You are a 
clever girl, Susy.” 

You wait and see, miss.” 

Susan Collins rushed off, adroitly hid her 
basket, and returning, climbed up an elm 
tree which happened to gi’ovv a few feet from 
the window, with the lightness and agility 
of a cat. When she reached a certain 
bough she lay along it, and propelled herself 
very gently forward in the direction of the win- 
dow. 

“ Now stretch out your two hands, miss.” 

Ermengarde did so, and in a moment Susy was 
standing by her side in Miss Nelson’s pretty little 
room. 

My word ! ” she exclaimed. I never see’d 
such a lot of grand things before. Tell me. Miss 
Ermengarde, do all these fine books and pictures 
belong to the governess ? ” 

Oh, yes ; those are pictures of Miss Nelson’s 
friends.” 

‘^Dear me, what a queer-looking young lady 



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THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


53 


that is, that one in the white dress, and long 
legs, and the hair done old-fashioned like.” 

That ? ” said Ermengarde. She went over 
and stood by the mantelpiece, and looked at 
a large, somewhat faded miniature which held 
a place of honor among a group of many other 
pictures and photographs. 

Ain’t she a queer-looking child ? ” said Susy. 

Why, she has a look of Miss Nelson herself. 
Do you know who she is. Miss Ermengarde ? ” 
“No,” said Ermengarde. “But I think there’s 
a story about that picture. Marjorie knows. 
Marjorie has a way of poking and prying into 
everything. She’s awfully inquisitive. I don’t 
interest myself in matters in which I have no 
concern. Now come over and sit by the 
window, Susy. You must sit back, so that no 
one can see us from the grounds ; and when 
Hudson brings my dinner, you must dart into 
that cupboard just behind us.” 

“ Oh, yes, miss. Hudson won’t catch me 
poaching on these preserves.” 

Susy was fond of using expressions which 
belonged to her father’s profession. She Avas a 
very imaginative child ; and one secret of her 
power over Ermengarde was her ability to tell 
long and wonderful stories. Horrible, most of 
these tales were — histories of poachers, which 
she had partly heard from her father, and 


54 


THE CHILDRETf OF WILTON CHASE. 


partly made up lierself. Ermengarde used to 
hold her breath while she listened. Between 
these thrilling tales, Susan artfully flattered. 
It was not necessary to make her compliments 
too delicate. She could say the same thing 
every time they met. She could tell Ermen- 
garde that never, since the world was created, 
was there to be found such another beautiful, 
clever, and noble little girl as Ermengarde 
Wilton. Ermie was never tired of hearing 
these praises. 

She was very glad to listen to them now. 
By the time Susan Collins had been half an 
hour in the room, Ermie was once more certain 
that Marjorie had betrayed her, that Miss 
Nelson was the most tyrannical of mortals, and 
that she herself was the most ill-used of little 
girls. 

At the end of half an hour Hudson unlocked 
the door, and brought in some dinner for Ei*mie. 
When the key was heard in the lock, Susan 
hid herself in a deep cupboard which stood 
behind a screen. 

Hudson laid down the tray with Ermen- 
garde’s dinner, told her to eat plenty, and 
retired. As she left the room she said she 
would return for the tray in half an hour. She 
did not say any word of sympathy to Ermen- 
garde. Hudson was always on the side of 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


55 


discipline ; she thought that the children of the 
present day sadly needed correction ; and when 
one of the young Wiltons was punished, she 
generally owned to a sense of rejoicing. That 
did not, however, prevent her supplying the 
culprit with an excellent meal, and Ermen- 
garde now raised the covers from a plump duck 
done to perfection, some green peas, and deli- 
cious floury new potatoes. A greengage tart, 
with a little jug of cream, also awaited the young 
lady’s pleasure. 

She called Susy out of her cupboard with a 
glad voice. 

Come, Susan,” she said, there’s plenty for 
us both. As there are only plates and knives 
and forks for one. I’ll eat first, of course, but 
you can wash the things up, and have a good 
meal after me. We must be quick about it 
though, for Hudson will be back in half an 
hour.” 

“ Oh, yes, miss, that Ave will. I’m wonderful 
hungry. Miss Ermengarde, and your nice dinner 
do look enticing.” 

At the appointed time Hudson returned. She 
brought in a couple of peaches and a bunch of 
grapes for Ermengarde. 

^‘Miss Ermengarde!” she said in consternation, 
you don’t mean to say you’ve eaten up all the 
duck ! And the tart, too, 1 Well, I do call that 


56 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


greedy. Where’s the sorrow that worketh to 
repentance when there’s such an appetite ? You’ll 
be ill, miss, and no wonder.” 

‘‘ But I didn’t eat all the duck, really, Hudson 
— I didn’t truly ! ” 

My dear, what’s left of it ? Only a little bit 
of the back. Why, this plump bird ought to 
have dined three people. Miss Ermengarde, you 
certainly will be very ill, and you deserve it. No, 
I won’t leave these peaches and grapes — I’d be 
afraid. Good-afternoon, miss. I’ll look in at tea- 
time. But don’t you expect nothing but dry 
toast then.” 

Hudson took her tray down to the kitchen, 
where she remarked on Ermie’s enormous appe- 
tite. 

“ A whole duck ! ” she said. I didn’t think 
any young lady could eat so much. And most 
times Miss Ermie picks at her food.” 

Upstairs, in Miss Nelson’s pretty little sitting- 
room, Ermengarde was scolding Susy for eating 
so much duck. Susy was retorting with some 
passion that she had not had more than her share, 
and over this dispute the two friends came almost 
to a quarrel. 

Susy, however, had no wish not to keep on 
the sunny side of Miss Ermengarde’s affections, 
and after her momentary irritation had cooled 
down, she adroitly changed the subject. Once 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


57 


more she administered broad flatteries ; and 
impressed upon Ermengarde the fact that she 
was a long-suffering and ill-used martyr. 

I wouldn’t stand it,” said Susy. No, that 
I wouldn’t. I ain’t a lady like you. Miss Ermie, 
but I wouldn’t stand what you do.” 

“ What would you do, Susy ? How would you 
help yourself ? ” 

What would I do? Well, I’d go to my 
pa’, and I’d have a talk with him. I’d let 
him know that — obey that old horror of a 
governess ? ” 

You mustn’t speak about her like that, really, 
Susy.” 

^‘Miss, I’m open; that’s what I am. .1 says 
what I means, and when I see a poor dear' put 
upon, and treated worse than a baby, and 
punished as if we were back in feudal ages, I 
say that the one who does it is a horror. You 
think the same. Miss Ermie, though you’re too 
proud to say it.” 

We don’t express ourselves in that way in 
our class,” said Ermengarde, with a slow dis- 
tinguished sort of smile which always abashed 
Susy. “ Yes, Miss Nelson is very suitable with 
the children, but I do think I am beyond her. 
I am old for my years, and no one can call 
fourteen young.” 

“ It’s a noble age, miss,” said Susy, in a tone 


58 


THE CIIILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


of rapture. only twelve, but I aspires to 

fourteen continual.” 

Oh, you,” said Erraengarde. You’re differ- 
ent; girls in your class don’t come out. You 
are not presented, you have no future. It is 
quite a different matter with me. I shall be 
in society in a few years at latest. What I 
should like my father to do is ” 

“To send you to a select seminary, miss — I 
know ! ” 

“ You don’t know, Susan. A select seminary ! 
the very word is vulgar. No; I should like 
my father to allow me to pursue my own educa- 
tion under the control of masters who are 
specialists in each branch.” 

“ Miss, you talk very learned.” 

Susan suppressed a yawn, and going to the 
window looked out. 

“I know what I’d do,” she said. “I’d pay 
that fine lady governess of yours out. It would 
be tit for tat with me. Couldn’t you do 
something as would put her in a fret. Miss 
Ermie ? ” 

“ I don’t know what to do,” said Ermengarde. 
“ Miss Nelson is not easily fretted.” 

“ W ell, I’d find a way. Certainly I’d do some- 
thing; see if I wouldn’t.” 

“ Hush ! ” said Ermengarde. “ Listen ! What 
is that ? ” She put her head out of the window. 


THE DAY OE THE PICNIC. 


59 


Susy prepared to follow her example, but Ermie 
pushed her back. 

“I hear Basil’s voice,” she said. “They are 
coming back — yes, they are all returning. 
Susy, you had better get into the cupboard. 
Hide as fast as you can. Miss Nelson is certain 
to come up here, the very first thing. O 
Susy, do get into the cupboard at once ! I 
shall be ruined if you are discovered up here.” 

Ermengarde’s tone had risen to one of piteous 
entreaty. Susy, a little loath — for she could 
scarcely believe that her fun was so nearly over — 
was dragged and almost pushed into the cup- 
board. When she had got her captive, Ermen- 
garde took the precaution to lock the cupboard 
door and put the key in her pocket. 

“ Oh, Miss, don’t go away and leave me locked 
in,” called the poor prisoner through the key- 
hole. “ Don’t you go a-forgetting of me, Miss 
Ermie, or I’ll be found a moldified skeleton 
here, by and by.” Susy’s tone was tearful, and 
Ermie’s piteous entreaties to her to hush were 
scarcely listened to. Footsteps were heard 
coming down the corridor. 

“ She’s coming ! I shall be betrayed. Do be 
quiet, Susy ! ” whispered Ermengarde in an 
agony. 

At that moment the room door was unlocked, 
and Miss Nelson came in. 


60 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


I tliouglit I heard you talking to some one, 
my dear,” she said. 

I was only repeating some poetry over,” said 
Ermengarde, raising her delicate brows. 

She hated herself for telling this lie. She 
had yet to learn that one act of deceit must 
lead to another. 

I am glad you are improving your mind, 
Ermie,” said the governess. 

She went up to the little girl, took one of 
her cold hands, and kissed her. 

Well, my dear, we have all come back, and 
on your account. Basil pleaded very hard for 
you. lie certainly is a dear fellow ; I don’t 
wonder you love him, my dear. He pleaded 
for you, Ermengarde, and I — my love, I have 
yielded to his request. I have come back to 
say that I forgive you, Ermie. You will try 
to obey me in future, my dear child, and this 
punishment, owing to Basil’s intercession, may 
be considered at an end. We are all going to 
have tea in the hay-field, and you are to join 
us there. Kun up to your room, dear, and 
put on your brown holland frock. I will wait 
for you here. Kiss me, Ermie, before you go.” 

Ermengarde went up to her governess. She 
went slowly, for she had the greatest possible 
difficulty in keeping her tears back. But for 
Susy’s presence in the cupboard this sudden 


THE DAY OF THE PICNIC. 


61 


forgiveness and deliverance wonld liave set her 
dancing for joy. As it was, her heart felt like 
lead, and she hated herself for her meanness. 

“ Kiss me, Ermie,” said Miss Kelson. There, 
my child. My dear, you need not look down- 
hearted any more. I was obliged to punish 
you, but I don’t think you will willfully and 
deliberately disobey me again. Cheer up now, 
Ermengarde ; the past is past. You must ask 
God to give you strength to do better in the 
future, my dear. And — one thing — I want you 
to believe in my love, Ermie ; I don’t show it 
much. It is one of my trials that I can’t show 
all that I feel, but — your mother’s child is 
beloved by me, Ermengarde.” 

“ Oh, don’t speak of mother,” said Ermengarde, 
with a little sob. She rushed out of the room. 
When she came back her governess was stand- 
ing by the window. 

“ I cannot make out what I did with the key 
of my cupboard,” she said. “I thought I left 
it in the door.” 

“Perhaps you have it in your pocket,” said 
Ermengarde. 

“Ko, I have felt in my pocket. Well, we 
can’t wait now. The children will be starving for 
their tea. I promised to show Basil some photo- 
graphs which I have in the cupboard, but they 
must wait for another time. Come, Ermengarde.” 


CHAPTER V. 


LOCKED IN THE CUPBOAED. 



UNISHMENT Las many degrees, 
and tLe sense of humiliation which 
Ermengarde felt, when that morning 
she had been left prisoner in Miss 
Nelson’s sitting-room, was nothing indeed to the 
agony w^hich she endured when, supposed to be 
free and pardoned, she walked with her gover- 
ness to the hay-field. 

Every moment she expected to hear Susy’s 
piercing yells following her. Susy was a child 
with little or no self-control. She hated dark 
rooms ; her imagination was unhealthy, and 
fostered in her home life in the worst possible 
way. Ermengarde knew that she could hear 
Miss Nelson’s conversation, and every moment 
she expected her voice to arise within 'the cup- 
board in protest. , 

When no sound came, however, a dreadful 
idea took possession of poor Ermie’s brain. The 
cupboard was not large ; suppose Susy had been 
suffocated. This terror became so insupport- 
able that several times the miserable child was 


63 



LOCKED IN THE CUPBOARD. 


63 


on the point of confessing all. Wliat kept her 
back from doing this was the thought of Bavsil. 
While the ghost of a chance remained she must 
avert the possibility of Basil looking down on 
her. For Basil to despise her would have been 
the bitterest cup which life at present could 
hold out to poor Ermengarde. 

Miss Nelson and her pupil reached the hay- 
field, and then ensued a scamper, a rush. Mar- 
jorie, Eric, Basil, Lucy, all crowded round their 
sister. They were unfeignedly delighted to 
have her with them, and Ermie could not but 
refiect how happy she would now be but for 
Susy. 

^‘We are going to have such a time,” said 
Marjorie. “After tea we are going to build 
a hayrick, (piite in a new way. It’s to be 
hollow inside, like a room, and pointed at the 
top, with a hole to let the air in, and — why, 
what’s the matter, Ermie? You look as white 
as anything. We thought you’d be so fresh, 
for you have done nothing all day. Now, I am 
tired, if yoii like. Oh, haven’t I run ? ” 

Marjorie stopped talking to mop her heated 
forehead. 

“But it was glorious fun,” she began, the 
next minute. “ I thought Eric would have 
capsized the boat, he laughed so. Only Basil 
was a bit mopy. He’s not half himself when 


64 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


you’re away, Ermie. Now, hadn’t you better 
sit down? You do look white.” 

Ermengarde glanced round her. At that 
moment she and Marjorie were a few feet away 
from the others. Basil was trotting meekly up 
and down with a small sister aloft on each 
broad shoulder. Eric was sending all the 
small fry whom he could reach into screams at 
his superabundant wit and spirits. Miss Nelson 
went over to help nurse to get the tea ready. 
For a brief moment the two sisters were alone. 

In an instant Marjorie would be called. She 
was never long left to herself in any group. 
Ermie had not a second to lose. She clasped 
Marjorie’s hand convulsively. 

Maggie, I want you to help me.” 

“ Of course I will, Ermie. What is it ? 
Coming, Eric ! What’s the matter, Ermie ? ” 

“ Oh, do get those children away for a minute.” 

“ Maggie, Maggie, Maggie ! ” shouted several 
voices, headed by Eric’s. 

“ Coming, Eric. Keep back, all of you. I’m 
talking to Ermie for a minute. Now, Ermie, 
quick. What is it ? ” 

I want to go back to the house, without 
any one noticing. Help me to go back at 
once.” 

^‘How can I help you! How queer you 
look.” 


LOCKED IN THE CtTPBOABD. 


65 


“ O Maggie, it’s so important ! Don’t question 
me. Only help me.” 

Poor Ermie, you do look in a state ! ” 

“And no one must know. Maggie, I did 
think you’d be clever enough to find an excuse 
for me. I trusted to you. Don’t fail me, 
Maggie.” 

“ Let me think,” said Marjorie. “You’ll come 
back asrain ? ” 

O 

“Yes, I won’t be gone any time.” 

“ I’ll fly across to nurse. Stay where you 
are — I’ll be with you again in a minute.” 

Marjorie ran across the hay-field, stooped 
down by old nurse’s side, had a short and eager 
colloquy, and returned to Ermengarde. 

“ Ermie, nurse wants those rusks which baby 
always has with his tea. She says you’ll find 
the box in the nursery cupboard. Will you 
fetch them in a hurry ? Bab^ is so hungry.” 

“ Oh, what nonsense ! ” said Basil, who had 
now come up. “ The idea of sending Ermie ! 
Where’s the nursemaid ? ” 

“ Alice went to the house with another 
message. You had better go, Ermengarde; 
nurse is in a hurry.” 

“ I don’t mind going a bit,” said Ermengarde. 
She looked ready to fly. Her lips were trem- 
bling. 

“ You look as tired as anything now, Ermie,” 


66 THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 

said Basil. “ I’ll go, if it comes to that. 
Where are those wretched rusks to be found, 
Maggie ? ” 

You can’t go, Basil. You are to light the 
lire for the gypsy tea.” 

“ It’s lighting.” 

Well, it’s going out again. I know it is ; or 
the kettle is sure to boil over, or something. 
Do be on the spot, and let Ermie make herself 
useful for once in a way.” 

Ennengarde ran oft* ; the tension of her feel- 
ings would permit of no further delay. She 
heard Basil scolding Marjorie as she hurried 
across the hay-lield. Ermengarde had never 
run so fast in her life. What should she find 
when she got back to that sitting-room. 

Would Susy be dead ? If so But her 

terrified thoughts would take her no further. . 

She was not a particularly active little girl, 
and her quick running soon deprived her of 
breath. Oh, what a distance lay between that 
hay-field and the house! At last the lawn was 
gained, then the gravel sweep, then the side- 
door. She could only totter upstairs, and by 
the time she reached Miss Nelson’s room she 
was really almost fainting. 

She managed to stagger across to the cup- 
board, unlocked it, and then sank down in a 
chair. Susy instantly made her appearance ; 


LOCKED IN THE CUPBOARD. 


07 


she was not dead, but she was extremely red 
in the face and very angry. 

You did serve me a trick, Miss Ermie ! Oh, 
my word, I didn’t think as you’d treat me as 
bad as that ! Why, I might have been — I 
thought I was to be suffocated, miss.” 

“Never mind now,” said Ermengarde. “I’m 

ever so sorry; I ” Her voice faltered. In 

her relief and thankfulness at finding Susy alive 
and well, she went up to the little girl and 
kissed her. Then she burst into tears;,, 

“ Miss Ermie ! ” 

If Susan Collins was fond of anyone, it was 
Ermengarde. 

“Don’t you take on, miss,” she said affection- 
ately. 

Ermie’s tears touched her so much that she 
felt she would have endured another half-hour 
of the cupboard to help her. 

“Don’t cry, please. Miss Ermie,” said Susy. 
“I know you couldn’t help yourself. I didn’t 
want you to have a scolding ; no, that I didn’t ; 
so it’s all right, miss; I’m none the worse. 
I was a bit choky in the cupboard, but I’m as 
well as ever now.” 

Ermengarde soon dried her tears. 

“ I must go back to the hay-field at once,” she 
said. “I’ll leave you now, Susy. Don’t be 
long here. Run downstairs while there’s no 


68 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


one about. Good-by, Susy. I’m glad you 
are not hurt.” 

Ermengarde nodded to Susan Collins, and 
with a light heart left the room. She went to 
the nursery, secured the baby’s rusks, ^ and 
returned to the hay-field. 

During the rest of that evening no one 
seemed happier, or laughed more often than 
Ermengarde. She thought herself safe, and it 
never occurred to her as possible that the 
doings of that day could ever be known. 


CHAPTER VI. 


A STOLEN TREASUEE. 



|HEN Ermengarde left the room, 
Susy looked round her. She was 
a thoroughly comfortable young per- 
son ; her nature had plenty of daring in 
it, and she was not prone to timidity. She was 
not much afraid of being caught, and she did not 
feel at all inclined to hurry out of the govern- 
ess’s room. 

Susy was one of those unfortunate little mor- 
tals whose pretty face, instead of bringing wdth it 
a blessing, as all beauty ought, had quite the 
reverse effect upon her. It made her discon- 
tented. Like many other foolish little maids, she 
longed to have been born in a higher station than 
Providence intended ; she longed to be rich and a 
lady. 

Susy was an only child, and her mother, who 
had once been a lady’s-maid, always dressed her 
neatly and with taste. Susy spoke with a more 
refined accent than most children of her class ; her 
dress, too, was better than theirs ; she thought a 
very little would make her what she most desired 



70 


THE CITILDREH OF WILTOH CHASE. 


to be, a lady. And when Ermeiigarde began to 
take notice of her, she felt that her ambition was 
all but fulfilled. 

Ermie had often met Susy in the grounds, 
and, attracted by her beautiful little face, had 
talked to her, and filled the poor child with 
conceit. Mr. AVilton had once seen Ermengarde 
and Susy chatting in a very confidential manner 
together. He at once separated the children, 
told Ermie she was not to make a friend of 
Susan Collins, and told Susan Collins that she 
was to mind her place, and go back to her 
mother. These instructions he further reit- 
erated to Miss Nelson and to Susan’s father. 
The children were forbidden to speak, and 
Ermengarde, proud, rebellious, without any real 
sense of right or honor, instantly contrived to 
evade her father’s commands, and saw more of 
Susy than ever. 

Not until to-day, however, had Susan Collins 
been inside Wilton Chase. Over and over she 
had longed to see the interior of what her 
mother was pleased to call the ‘noble pile.’ 
But not until to-day had this longing been 
gratified. In a most unexpected way she at 
last found herself at the Chase. She had 
enjoyed a good dinner there. That dinner had 
been followed by nearly an hour of great misery 
and terror. Still, she had been there, and she 


A STOLEN TREASURE. 


71 


reflected with pride that, in consequence, she 
could now hold up her head higher than ever. 

She was certainly not in a hurry to go away. 
Miss Nelson’s room seemed a magnificent 
apartment to Susy. She was sure no one 
could come into it at present, and she walked 
round and round it now, examining its many 
treasures with a critical and somewhat envious 
spirit. 

Once again, in the course of her wanderings, 
she came opposite the picture of the old- 
fashioned child — the child whose hair was 
curled in primitive and stiff ringlets, whose 
blue eyes looked out at the world with a some- 
what meaningless stare, and whose impossible 
and rosy lips were pursed up in an inane 
smile. 

Susy gazed long at this old-world portrait. 
It was set in a deep frame of blue enamel, and 
inside the frame was a gold rim. Susy said to 
herself that the picture, old-fashioned though it 
was, had a very genteel appearance. Then she 
began to fancy that the blue eyes and the lips 
of the child resembled her own. She pursed 
up her cherub mouth in imitation of the old- 
world lady. She smiled into the pictured eyes 
of the child of long ago. 

In short Susy became fascinated by the 
miniature; she longed to possess it. With the 


72 


THE CHILDKEN^ OF WILTOJ^ CHASE. 


longing came the temptation. Wliy should she 
not take it? The theft, if it could be called 
by such an ugly name, could never be traced to 
her. Not a soul in the place Avould ever know 
that she had been shut up in Miss Nelson’s 
room. Only Ermengarde would know, and 
Ermie would not dare to tell. 

Susie looked and longed and coveted. She 
thought of the pleasure this picture would give 
her in her own little attic-room at home. How 
she would gaze at it, and compare her face with 
the face of the old-fashioned child. Susy hated 
Miss Nelson, and if that good lady valued the 
picture, she would be only the more anxious to 
deprive her of it. 

Miss Nelson had often and often snubbed 
Susy ; she had also been cruel to Ermengarde. 
Susy could avenge Ermie as well as herself, 
if she took away the miniature. 

Susan was not the child long to withstand 
any sudden keen desire. She stretched up her 
hand, lifted the little miniature from its hook 
on the wall, and slipped it into the pocket of 
her pink frock. 

Its place looked empty and deserted. Susy 
did not want its loss to be discovered too soon. 
She looked around her, saw another miniature 
on the mantelpiece; without waiting even to 
look at it, she hung it in the place where the 


A STOLEIT TREASURE. 


73 


child’s picture had been, and then, well pleased, 
turned to go. First of all, however, she per- 
formed an action which she thought particularly 
clever and praiseworthy. 

Poor Ermengarde had left the cupboard open 
when she rushed from the room, but Susy took 
the precaution to lock it, and taking out the 
key, threw it carelessly on the floor behind a 
chair. Then, satisfled that she had done her 
best both for Ermie and herself, she left Miss 
Nelson’s room, running fearlessly down the 
now deserted back-stairs, and out into the 
courtyard. 

She went round to the laurel bush behind 
which she had concealed her basket of eggs, 
picked it up, delivered its contents to the cook, 
and ran home singing a gay song. 

Her mother remarked on Susy’s long absence, 
but when the little girl said she had been 
tempted to linger in the meadows, Mrs. Collins 
did not question her any further. She hastened 
to prepare an extra good tea for her darling, 
for of course Susy’s dinner with Ermengarde 
could not be mentioned. 

Meanwhile all went merrily in the hay-fleld. 
Eric excelled himself in His rare power of 
story-telling. Basil and Ermie sat side by 
side, and whispered together. Miss Nelson 
had seldom seen a softer look on her elder 


74 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


pupil’s face tlian now. She determined that 
Basil and his sister should be together as much 
as possible during the holidays. 

Presently the little ones went home, and 
by and by the elder children followed their 
example. Miss Nelson saw that Marjorie was 
tired — that Ermie, too, looked pale — and she 
made them both go to bed early. 

It was rather late when the governess re- 
turned to the schoolroom. She only went 
there to fetch one of her pupils’ exercise-books, 
but seeing Basil reading on one of the sofas, 
she stopped to talk to him. She was a very 
direct person, and in conversation she always 
went straight to the point. 

It is a great comfort to me to have you 
at home, Basil,” she said. 

Basil looked up at her. Then he dropped 
his book and started to his feet. 

Won’t you sit down?” he said politely. 

^‘No, I am going into my own room directly. 
I repeat that I am glad you are at home, Basil. 
There was a talk of your going north instead, 
was there not ? ” 

Yes. Uncle Charlie wanted me to fish 
with him.” 

“ It is on Ermengarde’s account that I am 
glad,” pursued the governess, 

Basil nodded. 


A STOLEI^ TUEASUKE. 


75 


I came back on account of Ermie,” he said. 
Then he colored, and added quickly, But 
I like being at home best.” 

^‘Yes, my dear boy, I understand. You are 
unselfish. You and Marjorie are remarkably 
unselfish. Basil, you have a great influence 
over your eldest sister; oh yes, I can see. In 
many respects Ermengarde is a difficult child ; 

I want you to use your influence well, and 

Will you come into my room, Basil ? ” 

Basil picked up his book. Of course he 
would go. He did not want to ; he thought 
it was rather fudge talking about his influence ; 
and as to his being unselfish, he liked his own 
way as well as any one else. Had he not 
almost blubbered about not going to Scotland, 
and although he had thought of Ermie, still 
he had given up his desires with a pang. He 
hated Miss Nelson to think better of him 
than he deserved, but he did not know how to 
explain himself, and he followed her in rather 
a limp fashion into her private sitting-room. 

By Jove ! ” he exclaimed, when he got there, 
what a tiny room ! Do they put you off 
with this ? Oh, I say, I call it a shame ! ” 

Miss Nelson loved her private sitting-room, 
and hated to hear it abused. She also par- 
ticularly disliked the expression with which 
Basil had commenced his speech. 


76 


THE CIIILBliEI^ OE WILTOK CHASE. 


“ I don’t wish to interfere, my dear boy, 
but those words — you wdll excuse me — I am 
shocked.” 

Do you mean ^ by J ove ’ ? ” 

^^Yes; don’t repeat the expression. It sounds 
like a calling upon false gods.” 

“ Oh, I say, all our fellows do it.” 

“ Does that make it right ? ” 

Basil fidgeted, and wished himself back in 
the schoolroom. 

^‘You were going to speak about Ermie,” he 
said. 

Miss Nelson seated herself by the open 
window. It was a warm and very beautiful 
summer’s night. A gentle breeze came in, 
^nd fanned the governess’s tired brow. 

What about Ermie ?” said Basil. He wanted 
to get back to his book, and to the unrestraint 
of the dear old schoolroom. 

think you have a good influence over 
Ermengarde,” said Miss Nelson, raising her face 
to his. 

Yes, yes,” he answered impatiently ; “ more 
than one person has said that to me. I have 
a good influence, but why should I have a 
good influence ? I mean, why is it necessary ? 
Ermie isn’t worse than other people. It sounds 
as if you were all abusing her when you talk 
of my good influence. I hate humbug. I’m 


A ST0LI2N TREASURE. 


77 


no better than other fellows. I’m fond of Erinie, 
I suppose, and that’s about the beginning and end 
of my influence.” 

Exactly,” said Miss ISTelson. She was not 
listening to all the boy’s words. Her thoughts 
were far away. 

Ermie is difficult,” she began. Then she 
stopped and uttered an exclamation. 

“ Look, Basil, is that a key at your feet ? ” 

Basil stooped, and picked up the key of Miss 
Nelson’s cupboard. 

Put it in the lock of the cupboard behind 
you, my boy. I am glad it is found — truly glad. 
I thought I could not have put it away. And 
yet Ermengarde seemed so sure that it was not in 
the lock when she was in the room.” 

“Oh, it fell out, I suppose,” said Basil. He 
was not interested in the key, and he stood up 
now, prepared to go. 

“ Those photographs I spoke about are in the 
cupboard, Basil. I could not bring them to you 
because I could not find the key. Would you 
like to see them now ? ” 

“ Thanks,” said Basil. “ Perhaps, if you don’t 
mind, I had better look at them by daylight.” 

When Basil said this, Miss Nelson also stood 
up. He looked at her, being quite sure now she 
would wish him good-night and let him go. Her 
eyes had a peculiar, terrified, staring expression. 


78 THE CHILDREN OP WILTON CHASE. 

Slie rushed to the mantelpiece ; then she turned 
and grasped the boy’s arm. 

Basil,” she said, ^Hhe picture is gone ! ” 

What picture ? ” he asked. He was really 
frightened at the anguished exj^ression in Miss 
Nelson’s matter-of-fact face. 

Mine,” she answered, clasping his hand 

tighter. “ My treasure, the picture of my ” 

here she broke off. “ It is gone, Basil — see, and 
another put in its place ! My miniature is gone ! 
it has been stolen ! ” 

“ No, no,” said Basil. “ It couldn’t have been. 
People don’t steal pictures at the Chase. There 
are no thieves. Let me look for it for you.” 

My miniature — my portrait. I don’t speak of 
it — I can’t!” Her voice shook. “No, no; it is 
gone. You see, Basil, it always hung here, and 
now another has been put on the same hook. 
That shows that the deed was intentional ; the 
miniature is stolen ! ” 

She sat down and clasped her hands over her 
face ; her thin long fingers trembled. 

“ I’m awfully sorry for you,” said Basil. He 
could not understand such emotion over any mere 
picture, but he had the kindest of hearts, and dis- 
tress of any sort always moved him. 

“ I’m awfully sorry,” he repeated. 

Miss Nelson looked up at his tone. 

“ Basil,” she said, “ when you have very few 


A STOLEN TiiEASLUE. 


79 


things to love, you value the few intensely. I 
did — I do. You don’t know, iny boy, wliat 
it is to be a lonely woman. May you never 
understand my • feelings. Tlie miniature is 
gone ; it was stolen, purposely.” 

‘‘Oh, we’ll find the thief,” said Basil. “If 
you are sure the picture was taken, we’ll make 
no end of a fuss, and my father will help. Of 
course you must not lose anything you value in 
this house. You shall have it back; we’ll all 
see to that.” 

“Thank you, Basil; I’m sure you’ll do your 
best.” 

Miss Nelson’s face looked as unhappy as 
ever. 

“ You must try and cheer up. Miss Nelson,” 
said the school-boy. “ You shall have your 
picture, that I promise you.” 

Miss Nelson was silent for a minute. 

“ Perhaps I shall get it back,” she said after a 
pause. “ But it won’t be the same to me again. 
No, nothing can be the same. I’ve got a 
shock. Basil, I have worked for you all. 
When your mother died, I came — I came at 
her request. A more brilliant governess could 
have taught your sisters, but I can truly say no 
one more conscientious coidd have ministered 
to them, and no one on the , whole could have 
loved them more faithfully. I have, however, 


80 


THU CHILDKEH OU WiLTOH CHASE. 


been misunderstood. Only one of your sisters 
has responded to me. Marjorie Las been sweet 
and true and good; tbe others — not that I 
blame little Lucy much — a child is always led 

by her elders — but ’’ 

What does all this mean ? ” said Basil, almost 
sternly. He knit his brows. He felt that he 
was going to be somebody’s ' champion, and 
there was fight in his voice. 

“This is what it means, Basil,” said Miss 
Nelson. “ I am sorry to pain you, but I believe 
Ermengarde has taken my miniature.” 

“ Ermie a thief ? What do you mean ? She’s 
my sister — she’s a Wilton! How can you say 
that sort of thing. Miss Nelson ? No wonder 
poor Ermie does not quite get on with you.” 

“She never gets on with me, Basil. She is 
disobedient, she is unresponsive. I have taken 
more pains for her than for the others. To-day 
I was obliged to punish her for two offenses of 
a very grave character. She took my miniature 
out of revenge ; I am sure of it.” 

“No, I am certain you are mistaken. You 
have no right to accuse her like this.” 

“ I wish I could think I was mistaken, Basil, 
but all circumstances point to the fact that 
Ermengarde in revenge took away my portrait. 
I locked her into this room as a punishment, as 
a severe punishment for a most grave offense. 


A STOLEN TREASURE. 


81 


She was very angry and very defiant. The 
picture was in its usual place when I locked her 
into the room. She spent the greater part of 
the day here. When I come here to-night the 
portrait has been exchanged for another.” 

‘‘ Yes ; your room has been empty for hours. 
Some one else has come in and done the thing, 
if indeed it has been done at all.” 

What do you mean ? The picture is 
gone ! ” 

The housemaid may have been dusting, and 
put another in its place.” 

^^No, Basil, the housemaid would not touch 
my private possessions ; I dust them and 
arrange them myself. I dusted my miniature 
only this morning, and this white rosebud and 
maidenhair I placed under it. I always put 
fresh flowers under my portrait ; I did so to-day 
as usual. No, as you say, there are no thieves 
at Wilton Chase. Ermie has taken the minia- 
ture out of revenge. She knew I valued it.” 

You are mistaken,” said Basil, and I think 
you are cruel ! ” 

He left the room in a great rage. 


CHAPTER VIL 



A GOOD, BOYISH SOET OF GIKL. 

HE next day was Saturday. The 
lessons done this morning by Ermen- 
garde, Marjorie, and Lucy were 
little more than nominal. A master 
came to give the little girls instruction in 
music at eleven o’clock, and after their half- 
hour each with him, they were considered free 
to spend the rest of the day as they pleased. 

Rather to Basil’s surprise Miss Nelson said 
nothing whatever to Ermie about the loss of 
her miniature. The governess’s face was very 
pale this morning, and her eyes had red rims 
round them, as though she had wept a good 
deal the previous night. She was particularly 
gentle, however, and Basil, who alone knew 
her secret, could not help being sorry for 
her. 

He was still angry, for he thought her idea 
about Ermengarde both unjust and cruel ; but 
her softened and sad demeanor disarmed him, 
and he longed beyond words to give her back 
the miniature. 


82 


A GOOD, BOYISH SORT OF GIRL. 83 

Ermie was in excellent spirits this morning. 
She thought herself well out of yesterday’s 
scrape, and she looked forward to a long and 
happy afternoon with her brothers. She was 
particularly bright and attentive over her 
lessons, and would have altogether won Miss 
Nelson’s approval, had not her sad mind been 
occupied with other matters. 

Marjorie was the first to go to her music 
lesson this morning. She returned from it at 
half -past eleven, and then Ermengarde went 
to receive Mr. Hill’s instructions. 

Basil was standing in the passage, sharpening 
a lead pencil as she passed. 

I’ll be free at twelve, Basil,” she called to 
him. “ Where shall I find you ? ” 

‘H’ll be somewhere round,” he replied, in a 
would-be careless tone. Maggie, is that you ? 
I want to speak to you.” 

He seemed anxious to get away from Ermen- 
garde, and she noticed it, and once more the 
cloud settled on her brow. 

Come out, Mag ; I want to speak to you,” 
said Basil. “You are free at last, I suppose?’’ 

“ Oh, yes ; I’m free. What were you so chuffy 
to Ermie, for? You seemed as if you didn’t care 
to have her with you ! ” 

“Oh, don’t I care ? I’m thinking of her all 
the time. It’s about her I want to speak to 


84 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


you, Maggie. But, first of all, have you heard of 
Miss Nelson’s loss ? ” 

“ No, what loss ? ” 

Some one has taken a miniature out of her 
sitting-room.” 

A miniature ? Which — which miniature ? 

Speak, Basil.” 

“ You needn’t eat me with your eyes, Maggie. 
I don’t know. I didn’t do it ! ” 

Oh, no ; but what miniature is it, Basil ? ” 

“ I tell you, I didn’t see it, Maggie. It 
hung over her mantelpiece, and she kept 
fiowers under it. She seemed to prize it a 
great lot.” 

Not the picture of a rather silly little girl 
with blue eyes and a smile ? Not that one ? 
Don’t tell me it was that one, Basil.” 

‘^Then you do know about it. I suppose it 
was that one. She was in an awful state.” 

“ No wonder. Oh, poor Miss Nelson ! ” 

^^Do talk like a reasonable being, Maggie. 
What was there so marvelously precious in 
the picture of a silly little girl ? ” 

“ Yes, but that silly little girl was her own — 
not her child, but her sister, and she loved her 
beyond all the world, and — the little sister went 
to the angels. Once she told me about her — 
only once. It was on a Sunday night. Oh, poor 
Miss Nelson ! ” 


A GOOD, BOYISH SORT OF GIRL. 85 

“Well, don’t cry, Mag — she must have the pic- 
ture back. She has got a horrid thought in her 
head about it, though.” 

“ A horrid thought ? Miss Nelson has a horrid 
thought? Oh, Basil, don’t you begin to mis- 
understand her.” 

“ Shut up ! ” said Basil. “ Who talks about my 
misunderstanding her? She has got a wrong 
notion into her head about Ermie, that’s all. She 
thinks Ermie took the miniature out of re- 
venge. There ! Is not that bad enough ? Now, 
what’s the matter, Maggie ? You are not 
going to tell me that you think Miss Nelson is 
right ? ” 

“ No,” said Marjorie, shaking her fat little 
self, after an aggravating habit of hers when 
she was perplexed. “ Of course I don’t think 
anything of the kind, still ” She was re- 

membering Ermengarde’s agitation of the day 
before — her almost frantic wish to return alone to 
the house. 

Marjorie grew quite red as this memory came 
over her. 

“Well, won’t you speak? ’’said Basil. “Miss 
Nelson must get back her miniature.” 

“ Of course she must, Basil.” 

“ She believes that Ermengarde took it.” 

“ Yes ; of course she is mistaken.” 

“ She is very positive.” 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


“ Oh, that’s a way of hers. She’s quite obsti- 
nate when she gets an idea into her head.”^ 

A fixed idea, eh ? ” Basil laughed. 

Marjorie did not join in the laugh, she was feel- 
ing intensely solemn. 

Miss Nelson is very angry, and in dreadful 
trouble,” Basil went on presently. quite 

thought she would speak to Ermengarde this 
morning.” 

She has not said a word, Basil.” 

I know that.” 

Basil, let me speak to Ermie.” 

“ But now, you’re not going to accuse her, or any 
rubbish of that sort, Maggie ? ” 

As if I would, Basil ! ” 

“ Then I wish you would speak to her. I’m 
uncomfortable enough about the whole thing, I 
can tell you. I hate to have anybody think such 
thoughts of Ermie.” 

I’ll tell her,” said Marjorie eagerly. I’ll tell 
her the miniature is lost.” 

She ran off, and Basil took another pencil 
out of his pocket and began to sharpen it. He 
did not like the aspect of affairs at all. His 
interview with Marjorie had given him no real 
satisfaction. Marjorie had not thrust tlie idea 
of Ermie’s guilt from her with the horror he 
had expected. Of course she had agreed with 
him, but not with that emphasis he had desired. 


A GOOD, BOYISH SOKT OF GIKL. 87 

He felt rather sickened. If Ermengarde could 
be mean and shabby, if by any possibility, 
however remote, Ermengarde had stooped to 
theft for the sake of a petty and small revenge, 
then he was very sorry he had not gone to 
Scotland, that was all. He’d give up Ermie 
if she was that kind, but of course she wasn’t. 
It was horrid of him to lend even half credence 
to such a belief. He would go and have a 
game of cricket with Eric, and get such a 
monstrous idea out of his head. 

When they were preparing for dinner, 
Marjorie told her sister about the stolen 
miniature. She told the story in her own 
characteristic way. She was determined to 
take no unfair advantage of Ermie, and so, while 
washing her hands, and purposely splashing the 
water about, and with her back so turned that 
she could not get a glimpse of Ermie’s face, 
she burst forth with her news. AVhen she 
turned round, Ermengarde was calmly combing 
out her long hair. 

“ It’s dreadful, isn’t it ? ” said Marjorie. 

Dreadful,” echoed Ermengarde, but her voice 
did not sound excited. 

“And she was so fond of that little sister,” 
continued Marjorie. 

“I never heard of any sister,” said Ermeu: 
garde in a profoundly uninterested voice. “ Let 


88 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


US come down to dinner, Maggie ; the gong has 
sounded.” 

Marjorie gave vent to a very heavy sigh. 
She had got no satisfaction out of Ermengarde, 
and yet her manner gave her a sense of 
insecurity. She recalled again Ermie’s strange 
excitement of the evening before, and wondered 
in vain what it all meant. 

At dinner-time Miss Nelson’s face was paler 
than ever. It was noticed now by the three 
people who shared her secret. Eric and Lucy 
were perfectly comfortable and easy in their 
minds, but the older children felt a sense of 
constraint. After dinner Eric asked Marjorie 
to come with him to visit his ferrets. 

They are at Collins’s, you know,” he said, 
hope Collins is treating them properly. If 
he does not. Shark will pay him out ; that’s a 
certainty. Come along, Mag.” 

“ I will presently,” said Marjorie. 

“ Oh, no ; you must come at once. I have a 
lot to do this afternoon; you can’t keep me 
waiting.” 

A good-humored smile played over Marjorie’s 
sunny face. Other people have a good deal to 
do too,” she said. I’ll come soon, Eric. You 
can wait f5r me outside. I won’t keep you long ; 
but I have something important to do first.” 

Eric went away feeling very cross. If 


A GOOD, BOYISH SORT OF GIRL. 89 

Marjorie took to giving herself airs, the world 
might as well stop at once. What use was 
Marjorie except to be at everybody’s beck and 
call; and more especially at his — Eric’s — beck 
and call. He kicked his heels into the gravel, 
thrust his hands into his trousers pockets, and 
put on all the airs of an ill-used mortal. 

Meanwhile Marjorie, whose important business 
made her round face look intensely solemn, was 
trotting down the corridor to Miss Nelson’s 
sitting-room. She guessed that she would find 
the governess there. To her gentle little tap 
Miss Nelson replied at once, and the little girl 
came in and stood before her. 

“What is it, Marjorie?” said her governess. 
“ Have you anything to say to me ? I am busy. 
Why don’t you go out with your brothers ? ” 

“ I wanted to give you a kiss,” said Marjorie, 
“ and to tell you — to tell you — that if the other 
little girl loved you, so do I. I thought I’d 
tell you; I know it won’t be a real comfort, 
but I thought perhaps you ought to know.” 

“ It is a real comfort, Marjorie,” said Miss 
Nelson in a softened voice. “ Give me that 
kiss, dear. Thank you, my love. You are a 
good child, Marjorie — a dear child. Now run 
away and play.” 

“ You have a headache, I know,” said Mar- 
jorie, “ and see how the sun does stream in 


90 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


at this window. May I pull down the blinds? 
And will you lie on the sofa ? Do, and I will 
bathe your head with eau de Cologne. I wish 
you would let me.” 

No, dear, the others are waiting for you.” 

Let them wait. Eric wants me to see his 
ferrets. I’d much rather stay with you.” 

Miss Nelson knew that Marjorie adored Eric, 
and that whatever pets of his happened to be 
in vogue had the strongest fascination for her. 
Nevertheless she did lie down on the sofa, and 
her little pupil’s gentle hand felt all that was 
delightful and soothing as it touched her brow. 
When Marjorie stole out of the room, Miss Nel- 
son had dropped asleep. 

Eric was still waiting. He was amusing him- 
self peeling an early autumn apple, eating it in a 
discontented sort of. way, for he was not very 
hungry, and watching the windows for Marjorie 
to appear. He was delighted when he saw hei*, 
but he would not show his pleasure. 

Come on,” he said, in a gruft* voice. I don’t 
know why I waited for you. Half the evening is 
gone already. Do be quick, Mag; how you 
loiter ! ” 

I’ve an apple in my pocket for Shark,” said 
Marjorie. 

She tucked her hand comfortably through 
Eric’s arm. She was feeling very sunshiny and 


A GOOD, BOYISH SORT OF GIRL. 91 

happy, and soon managed to bring back the ever- 
bubbling humor to the little boy’s lips. 

About a quarter of an hour later, a soil; of 
bundle rolled rather than walked into the Col- 
linses’ neat little cottage. Mrs. Collins uttered 
an exclamation and darted forward. She did not 
at once recognize that the bundle consisted of 
Marjorie and Eric, who, with peals and bursts of 
laughter, had in this style intruded themselves 
into her modest dwelling. 

Let go, Mag, don’t throttle me ! ” screamed 
Eric. 

^AVell, leave the apple in my pocket; I’m go- 
ing to feed Shark.” 

Mrs. Collins conducted her two little visitors 
to the yard, where Shark and his companion 
ferret resided in their wire cage. Marjorie sank 
down in front of the cage, and gazed at the fer- 
rets quite as long and as earnestly as Eric could 
desire. 

They are beautiful,” she said at last. More 
especially Shark.” 

Eric felt that if it w^ere not undignified, he 
could have hugged his sister. They left the yard, 
and re-entered Mrs. Collins’s house the dearest of 
friends. 

They were going into the kitchen to beg for 
a piece of brown cake, which they knew Mrs. 
Collins could make to perfection, when, hearing 


92 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


voices raised in dispute, Marjorie drew Eric 
back. 

‘‘Let’s come another time for the cake,” she 
whispered. “The passage-door is open, we can 
go out that way.” 

“ Wait a second, Mag. I forgot to take a 
squint at Lop-ear. Just stay where you are. I’ll 
be with you in a twinkling.” 

Marjorie stood still ; Eric departed. The fol- 
lowing words fell on Marjorie’s ears : 

“ It’s all very well to talk, Susy, but I’m 
quite sick of you and your mysteries, and I 
will know what you’re hiding under your 
apron.” 

“ I can’t tell you, mother. It’s a secret between 
Miss Ermengarde and me.” 

“ Well, show it to me, anyhow. I don’t mind 
your talking to miss, though the family make 
such a fuss about it. If it’s anything she gave 
you, you might as well show it to your mother, 
Susy.” 

“ Yes, she did give it to me ; she gave it to me 
yesterday.” 

“ Well, show it to me.” 

“No, no; that I won’t.” 

“ What is it ? you might tell me that.” 

Marjorie distinctly heard Susy’s pleased childish 
laugh. 

“ Oh, you’ll never guess,” she said ; “ it is so 


A GOOD, BOYISH SORT OF GIRL. 


93 


pretty — all sorts of color, blue and pink and 

white, and — and But you shanH see, that 

you shan’t.” 

Before Marjorie could hear more Eric hurried 
back. 

^^Now we’ll have a game of cricket,” he said 
to his sister. 

Marjorie followed him without a word. She 
was a very good cricketer for a little girl, and 
she and Eric often had a jolly game together. 
The two went to the cricket-field, and the game 
began. 

On Eric’s side it was vigorously played; but 
had Marjorie’s arm lost its cunning ? Her 
bowling went wide of the mark. Eric proposed 
that he should bowl, and she should bat. This 
made matters no better. Finally he stopped 
the game in disgust. 

You’re awfully changed, Mag,” he said, 
half between sorrow and anger. And then he 
marched out of the field. He felt an intense 
pity for Marjorie. She always was a good, 
boyish sort of a girl,” he said to himself, ^^but 
she’s getting like the rest of them. Girls are 
a poor lot, and she’s like the rest.” 

At another time Marjorie could not have borne 
to see Eric look at her sorrowfully. She took 
no notice now, however, but the moment her 
brother left the field, she turned on her own 


94 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


heel, and went back to the Collinses’ cottage. 
Mrs. Collins had gone out, but Susy was 
standing by the door. Susy wore a blue cotton 
frock to-day, and her curly hair was pushed 
back from her fair and pretty face. She was 
standing in the porch talking to the canary. 
He was pouring out a flood of song, and 
Susy was looking up at him, and trying to 
bring notes something like his from her rosy 
lips. 

On ordinary occasions Marjorie, remembering 
the home mandate, would not have entered into 
any prolonged conversation with Susy. She 
forgot all this now in her eagerness and desire 
for information. 

Susy ! ” 

^^Yes, Miss Marjorie.” 

Susy had no particular love for Marjorie. 
Marjorie was downright in manner, plain in 
face, no flatterer. Susy came out of the cottage 
slowly, looking behind her, as she did so, at the 
singing canary. 

^‘Come here, Susy, come quickly; I want to 
say something to you.” 

Yes, Miss Marjorie, what is it ? ” 

“What were you saying to your mother just 
now? I overheard you in the passage. What 
was it all about ? ” 

“ I don’t remember, miss, I’m sure.” 


A GOOD, BOYISH SORT OP GIRL. 


95 


Susy’s color had changed from red to 
white. 

“ Where were you, miss, when I was talking ? ” 
she said after a pause. 

I was in the passage, waiting for Eric. 
You must remember what you said. Your 
mother was asking you to show her something. 
Something you said Ermengarde had given 
you.” 

“ Oh, I remember now, miss. Miss Ermie 
do give me things now and then.” 

‘‘ But you said she gave you this, whatever 
it was, yesterday.” 

couldn’t have said yesterday. Miss Mar- 
jorie.” 

‘^You did, Susy; I heard you.” 

I couldn’t have said yesterday, really, miss.” 

But you did, Susy ; you said yesterday as 
plain as possible. You said ^she gave it to me 
yesterday ’ ; those were your very words.” 

“I must have meant another day, miss; I’m 
careless in my words, often and often.” 

What did she give you, Susy ? Do tell 
me.” 

“ Only a yard of blue stuff to make a frock 
for my doll.” 

But how could a yard of blue stuff be pink 
and white and all sorts of colors ? ” 

^‘Well, miss, I suppose I meant my doll. 


96 


THE CHILDKEN^ OF WILTOIT CHASE. 


She’s pink and white enough. I’ll show her 
to you, if you like, and then you’ll believe me. 
Shall I run and fetch her to show you, miss ? ” 

“ Oh, if you are as sure as all that, you 
needn’t trouble,” said Marjorie. 

She left the cottage without even waiting 
to bid Susy good-by. Eric was still lounging 
about, waiting for her, and Marjorie ran up to 
him, all her usual spirits once more shining 
in her face. 


CHAPTER VIIL 
father’s birthday. 



I HE great event of tlie year at Wilton 
Chase came in the summer. It came 
just at the time when all the children 
could enjoy it — when they were all at 
home and together. 

This event was Mr. Wilton’s birthday. It had 
been his custom, as long as any of the children 
could remember, to devote this day to them. 
He was their willing slave, their captive to do 
what they pleased with during the long hours of 
that summer day. 

Aunt Elizabeth, who hated being brought into 
close contact with what she termed unfledged 
creatures,” generally left the house for that 
occasion. The oak doors which divided the 
schoolroom from the grown-up portion of the 
building were thrown open, and happy rioters 
might have been seen darting about in all 
directions. In short, during this day Chaos 
reigned instead of order. Each child did as he 
or she liked best, with a reckless disregard to all 
future consequences. 


97 



THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


In preparation for the feasting whicli went 
on during father’s birthday, nurse was wont 
to see that all the useful unpleasant nursery 
bottles were well filled. She sent them to the 
chemist a week before, and when they were 
returned, put them grimly away in the cup- 
board. 

“ These,” she would remark, have nothing to 
do with father’s birthday, but they come in handy 
the day after.” 

Miss Nelson also made preparations for the 
after effects of this day of unrestraint. She 
laid in a good store of clean manuscript paper, 
for she knew many impositions would have to 
be written, and she looked well through the 
poetry books and books of French selections, 
to see which on an emergency would be suited 
to the capacities of the delinquents, who would 
be certain to have to learn them amidst tears and 
disgrace. 

The children’s maid, too, laid in stores of but- 
tons and hooks, and tapes and ribbons, for the 
repaiiing of the clothes which must come to grief 
in the general riot. 

Thus all that the careful elders could do w’as 
done, but the children cared for none of these 
things. To the children the day itself stood 
before them in all its glory, and they gave no 
thought or heed to any after-time of reckoning. 


father’s birthday. 


99 


Mr. Wilton’s birthday arrived in the begin- 
ning of the second week of the summer holidays. 
The first exuberance of joy, therefore, at having 
the boys at home again, was past, and all the 
young folk could give themselves up to the 
ecstasy which the day itself afforded. 

Good-by, Koderick,” said Miss Elizabeth 
Wilton to her brother. She came in in her 
neat traveling-dress, and surprised him over a 
late breakfast. 

“ Why, where are you off to ? ” he asked. 

Where am I off to ? I’m going to town, 
of course.” 

To town, in August ! What do you mean, 
Lizzie ? ” 

^Wou may well shrug your shoulders, and 
ask me what I mean. Yoii^ Eoderick, are the 
cause. Your birthday comes to-morrow.” 

“Good gracious! And I had forgotten all 
about it.” 

“Well, the children remember it, and so do 
I. Good-by, Roderick. I’ll be home again on 
Friday evening. I don’t want to stay longer in 
that stifling London than I can help.” 

Miss Wilton took her departure, and Mr. 
Wilton stretched out his hand to the toast- 
rack, took a piece of toast which he absently 
broke in two, and once more buried his head 
in his Times, There were a good many interest’ 


100 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


ing items of intelligence this morning, and Mr. 
Wilton was a keen politician. Between him, 
however, now, and the clearly printed tyj^e of 
the paper, came the vision of to-morrow. To- 
morrow — his birthday, and the day when every- 
thing vras turned topsy-turvey, and the children 
and Chaos reigned supreme. 

Mr. Wilton was a very affectionate father, 
but no one must think the worse of him for 
shrinking at this moment from the ordeal which 
lay before him. When the day came, he Avould 
throw himself into the fun, heart and soul — he 
would be the life of the rioters, the ringleader 
of the pleasure-seekers. He would do this, and 
he would enjoy himself, but in anticipation the 
prospect was not cheerful. He had forgotten 
all about his birthday; he had further made 
arrangements for to-morrow — he was to. see a 
friend in the neighboring town ; they were to 
lunch together, and discuss the autumn shooting. 
Afterward he had intended to ride some miles 
farther on and visit a lady, a certain Mrs. Gray, 
who had been a great friend of his wife’s, and 
whom he had rather neglected of late. He had 
made all his plans ; they were none of them vital, 
of course, and they could be postponed, but it 
was disagreeable to have to do this. 

Mr. Wilton pushed his Times aside, rose from 
the breakfast-table and went out. He must 


father’s birthday. 


101 


order his horse and ride over at once to Quar- 
chester, and put his friend off. How ridiculous 
it would sound to have to say, My dear Furniss, 
the young ones are celebrating my birthday to- 
morrow, so I can’t come.” 

Mr. Wilton stood on the gravel sweep, called 
a groom, gave the necessary directions, and 
looked around him. Pie was glad none of the 
children were about — he did not want to dis- 
cuss the birthday until he felt in a better humor. 
What a good thing the children were employed 
elsewhere ! 

Just then, however, he heard a shrill childish 
laugh, and the next moment little Lucy, hotly 
pursued by fat Marjorie, dashed into view. 
Lucy rushed up to her father, clasped her arms 
round his legs, and looked up into his face. 

Marjorie panted up to her. ^^No, no, Luc}^, 
you are unkind,” she said. It is wrong of you 
to run away like this, and when Miss Nelson is 
so sad, too.’’ 

Hullo, Maggie, have you no word of greeting 
for me ? ” asked her father. 

“ Oh, father, I beg your j)ardon ; I wanted to 
catch Lucy and bring her back to prayers. She’s 
quite wild this morning ; I expect it’s because of 
the birthday being so near, but it does tease Miss 
Nelson so when the children don’t come in quietly 
to prayers.” 


102 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


into the house this moment, Lucy,” said 
Mr. Wilton, in a tone which all the children 
immediately obeyed. “ You stay, Maggie.” 

Lucy trotted off. 

“ AYas I right in hearing you say, Maggie, that 
Miss Nelson was ill ? ” 

Not e::tactly ill, father, but she’s fretting.” 

Fretting ? AVhat about ? ” 

Marjorie edged up to her father in the con- 
fidential way which made people take to her at 
once. 

“ It’s her little sister’s picture,” she said. A 
miniature, and it’s — it’s lost. It — it can’t be 
found.” 

I never knew Miss Nelson had a sister.” 

Oh, yes ; only she’s dead — a dear little girl 
—she died a long time ago, and Miss Nelson 
is very fond of her miniature, and it’s — it’s 
lost!” 

Just at this moment the groom appeared, lead- 
ing Mr. Wilton’s spirited bay mare. 

“ AVhat a tragic face, Maggie,” said her father, 
chucking her under the chin. “AVe must only 
trust that the picture is mislaid, not lost. Now, 
good-by, my dear, I am off to Quarchester.” 

As Mr. AVilton rode down the avenue he 
thought in a slightly contemptuous way of 
Marjorie’s information. 

^‘I do trust Miss Nelson is not too senti* 


father’s birthday. 


103 


mental,” he murmured. Poor Maggie looked 
absolutely tragic over her governess’s loss. I 
really was prepared to hear of some recent 
bereavement; but the loss of a miniature, and 
of course it is only mislaid ! I do trust Miss 
Nelson is the right person to bring up a tender- 
hearted little thing like Maggie. No\V, Ermen- 
garde Hullo ! there is Ermengarde ! ” 

Yes, just ahead of him, and quite unconscious 
that she was observed, walked Ermengarde in 
close confabulation with Susan Collins. 

Mr. Wilton’s brow darkened as he saw the 
two together. 

^^This is absolute carelessness on Miss Nelson’s 
part,” he said to himself. “ She knows my 
wishes, and it is her business to see that 
Ermengarde obeys. I must have a veiy 
serious talk with Miss Nelson when I return 
home this afternoon, but I have no time to 
attend to the matter now. If I don’t hurry, 
I shall miss seeing Furniss.” 

Mr. Wilton galloped quickly away, found 
his friend at home, and in conversation with 
him forgot all home worries. He forgot them 
so absolutely that he accepted an invitation to 
spend the day and dine. In consequence it 
was near midnight when he returned to Wilton 
Chase, and the fact that to-morrow was his 
^irthday again absolutely escaped his memory. 


CHAPTEE IX. 


FIVE o’clock in the MOENING. 


AGGIE, Maggie, wake up, I say ! ” 

^^Yes, who’s there. I’m so sleepy. 
Oh, it’s you, Eric. What do you 
want ? ” 

It’s father’s birthday, and the clock has just 
struck four. You promised you’d get up at 
four.” 

Yes; but, oh dear me, I am so sleepy.” 

Marjorie yawned, and twisted about on her 
pillow. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t three that struck, 
Eric?” 

“ Xo, four ; I counted the strokes. I thought 
you liked getting up early.” 

“ So I do, but don’t talk so loud, or you’ll 
wake Ermie.” 

“ Catch me wanting her to get up, cross old 
thing ! ” 

“Eric, you are unkind, and Basil wouldn’t 
like it.” 

“ Bother Basil ! what do I care ? I say, 
Mag, are you going to pop out of bed ? ” 

104 


FIVE o’clock in the moening. 105 

‘‘ I suppose so. Go outside tlie door and wait 
for me, Eric, and do be quiet.” 

Eric departed, whistling under his breath, 
and kicking his heels so restlessly that only 
the soundest sleeper could still remain in the 
land of dreams. 

Marjorie rubbed her eyes, stretched herself, 
yawned, and finally, stimulated by threatening 
knocks of Eric’s on the other side of the door, 
managed to tear herself away from her warm 
snug bed. She saw the sunlight streaming in 
through the closed window-curtains, but August 
though it was, this early hour of the morning 
was chilly, and Marjorie shivered as she tumbled 
not too tidily into her clothes. Eric would not 
give her time to take her usual cold plunge- 
bath, and she was decidedly of opinion that plans 
which looked delightful the night before are less 
alluring when viewed by the candid light of 
morning. 

Marjorie was a hearty child in every way, 
hearty at Avork and at play, hearty, too, at 
sleep, and it was hard to be debarred of quite 
a third of her usual allowance. She dipped her 
face and neck, however, in cold water, Avhich 
effectually woke her up, and when she had 
brushed out her thick hair, and knelt for a 
moment or two at her little bed to say her 
usual morning prayers, she felt quite cheerful, 


106 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


and joined Eric with her nsnal sunny good- 
humored face. 

That’s right,” said Eric, clasping her hand. 

Isn’t the morning scrumptious? Not a bit 
of a cloud anywhere. Now let’s be otf to wake 
father.” 

To wake father ! at four o’clock in the 
morning ! What do you mean, Eric ? ” 

It’s twelve minutes past four, if Tt comes 
to that,” said Eric. ^Wou were an awful time 
getting into your clothes, Mag. And' why 
shouldn’t we wake father ? It’s his birthday. 
He will like us to wake him ! ” ' 

Marjorie, however, judging from her own too 
recent experience, thought differently. 

“ It really is too early,” she said. He 
wouldn’t like it a. bit, and why should we vex 
father because it’s his birthday ? ” 

“You forget that he never is vexed with 
anything we do on his birthday,” said Eric. 
“ It’s our day,- and we couldn’t be scolded, 
whatever we did. Do come along, Maggie; I 
have it all planned so jolly. Father is to come 
wdth us, and unmoor the boat, and help us to 
gather the water-lilies. Do come on, and 
don’t waste the precious time. I tell you, 
father will like it.” 

Marjorie was very unselfish, but she ^vas 
also easily persuaded, particularly by her chosen 


^'IVE o’clock list THE MORNING. 


107 


and special chum, Eric. Accordingly, after a 
little further demur, she consented to go with her 
brother to their father’s room. 

It was very still in the house, for not a servant 
as yet had thought of stirring. Eric pushed 
back the oak doors, which so effectually 
divided the nursery people from the grown- 
ups. 

“There you stay, you nasty things!” he said, 
hooking them back with an air of great triumph. 
“ This is our day, and you can’t keep us 
prisoners. Come along, Mag, I’ve broken the 
prison-bars.” 

Marjorie’s own spirits were rising fast. 
After all, it was delicious to be up in the early 
morning. She was glad she had taken the trouble 
to get out of bed now. 

The children ran down the wide corridor into 
which the best bedrooms opened. They paused 
at length outside their father’s door. Here 
Marjorie once again grew a .little pale, but 
Eric, with a look of resolution, turned the handle 
of the door and went in. 

Marjorie followed him on tiptoe. Father’s 
room was very large, and to the culprits who 
stood just inside the door, looked solemn and 
awe-inspiring. Even Eric felt a little subdued ; 
the chamber seemed so vast, and the great 
four-poster, away by itself in an alcove, had 


108 


THI5 ClIlLDREl^ WILTON" CHASE. 


a remote and unapproachable aspect. It was 
one thing to have a rollicking, merry, good- 
humored father to romp about with all day, 
and another to approach the solemn personage 
who reposed in the center of that bed. 

Let’s come away,” whispered Marjorie. 

Fudge ! ” retorted Eric. “ It’s father’s birth- 
day! It’s our day! Come along — he can’t be 
angry with us even if he wished.” 

Thus exhorted, but with many misgivings 
at her heart, Marjorie followed her brother across 
the big room and up the two steps which led to 
the alcove. 

A picture of the children’s mother hung over 
the mantelpiece. It was a very girlish picture, 
and represented a slim figure in a white dress, 
with a blue sash round her waist. The face was 
a little like Ermengarde’s, but the eyes which 
looked down now at the two children had 
Marjorie’s expression in them. There were other 
portraits of Mrs. Wilton in the house, later and 
more matronly portraits ; but Marjorie liked this 
the best — the girlish mother seemed in touch with 
her youthful self. 

“ Do come away, Eric,” she said again, and 
tears almost sprang to her eyes. It seemed 
cruel to wake father just to add to their own 
pleasure. 

Eric, however, was not a boy to be lightly 



"Let^s come away/ whispered Marjorie. 


. 



mYB o’clock IK THE MOKKINO. lOO 

turned from liis purpose. He had very little 
sentiment about liim, and had stern ideas as to 
what he termed his rights. Father’s birthday 
was the children’s lawful day ; on that day 
they were one and all of them kings, and the 
^‘king could do no wrong.” 

Accordingly this little king, with a somewhat 
withering glance at his sister, stepped con- 
fidently up to the big bed, raised himself on 
tiptoe, so as to secure a better view, and looked 
down with his chubby expectant face on his 
slumbering father. 

It is all very well for the little folk, who are 
in bed and asleep as a rule between eight and 
nine in the evening, to feel lively and larky, 
and quite up to any holiday pranks at four 
o’clock on a summer’s morning; but the older 
and less wise people who sometimes do not close' 
their eyes until the small hours, are often just 
enjoying their deepest and sweetest slumbers 
about the time the sun likes to get up. 

This was the case with Mr. Wilton. He had 
not arrived home until midnight — he had 
found some letters before him which must be 
replied to — he had even dipped into a book in 
which he was specially interested. Then his 
favorite spaniel G-yp had begun to howl in his 
kennel, and Mr. Wilton had gone out to see 
what was the matter. 


110 THE CHtLDRE]^ OF WiLTOl'f CIlASE. 

So, from one cause or another, he had not 
laid his tired head on his pillow until between 
one and two o’clock in the morning. 

Therefore Mr. Wilton was now very sound 
asleep indeed, and not Eric’s buzzing whispers 
nor Marjorie’s cautious repentant ^‘Hush — hush, 
Eric ! ” disturbed him in the very least. 

“ How lazy of father ! ” pronounced Eric in a 
tone of withering scorn. He has not even 
stirred. Oh, you needn’t go on with your 
‘ hush — hush ! ’ Mag — he’s as sound as a button. 
Look here, I must speak a little louder. Fa — • 
ther ! oh, I say, father, open your eyes ! ” 

Eric’s voice became piteous, but the eyes 
remained closed, the face peaceful and immov- 
able. 

^^We might both of us jump on the bed at 
the same moment,” said Eric. “That ought to 
shake him a good bit, and perhaps he’d begin 
to yawn. Oh, jolly, it’s a spring mattress; we 
can give him a great bounce if we jump on 
together. Now then, Mag, be sure you jump 
when I do.” 

Marjorie, still looking rather terrified, but led 
on by Eric’s indomitable spirit, did spring on 
the bed, and so heavily that she rolled on to 
Mr Wilton’s leg. He started, groaned, said 
“ Down, Gyp ! ” in a very angry voice, and once 
more pursued his way in dreamland, without 


J'lVE o’clock m ME MOENINO. Ill 

any idea that two little imps were perched 
each on one side of his pillow. 

“ It’s too bad,” said Eric. The whole morn- 
ing will go at this rate; it Avill soon be five 
o’clock. Oh, I say — pater — father — gov ! do 
wake ! ” 

You shouldn’t say pater or gov,” said 
Marjorie. “ Father doesn’t like it.” 

“ Much he cares ! He doesn’t hear anything. 
He’s stone deaf — he’s no good at all ! ” 

‘‘Well, we shouldn’t say words he doesn’t 
like, even if he is asleep,” said Marjorie in her 
properest tones. 

“ I like that,” said Eric. “ And why mayn’t 
I • say pater, I wonder ? Pater is the Latin of 
father. It’s a much nicer word than father, 
and all our fellows say it. You think it isn’t - 
respectful because you’re an ignorant girl, 
Maggie, but Julius Caesar used to say pater 
when he was young, so I suppose I may.” 

“Father looks very handsome in his sleep,” 
said Marjorie, turning her head on one side, and 
looking sentimentally at her parent. 

“He doesn’t,” said Eric. “He looks much 
better with his eyes open. Oh, I say, I can’t 
stand this ! The morning will go, and we’ll 
never get our water-lilies. Father, wake up ! 
Father, it’s your birthday ! Don’t you hear us ? 
Here, Mag, let’s begin to jump up and down 


119 THD CHtLDitElf OE WiLTOlf CHASE. 

again on fhe bed. Couldn’t you manage to hop 
on his leg by accident ? You’re heavier than 
me.” 

Marjorie and Eric joined hands, the fun 
entered into their souls, and they certainly 
jumped with energy. 

Mr. Wilton began to have a very bad dream. 
Gyp, his favorite spaniel, seemed suddenly to 
have changed into a fiend, and to have seized 
him by the leg. Finally the dream dissolved 
itself into a medley of laughter and childish 
cries. He opened his eyes : two little figures 
with very red faces and very disordered hair 
were tumbling about on his bed. 

“ Eh — what ? Is the house on . fire ? ” he 
gasped. 

“ Oh, father ! At last ! ” exclaimed Marjorie. 
She flung herself upon him, and began to kiss 
him all over his face. 

“ My dear child — very affectionate of you, no 
doubt, but why this sudden rush of devotion in 
the middle of the night ? ” 

It isn’t ! ” exclaimed Eric in a voice of awful 
emphasis. It’s nearly five o’clock ! ” 

And it’s your birthday,” said Marjorie, 
beginning to kiss him again. 

• ^^Yes,” continued Eric, “it’s your birthday, 
father. Our day, you know.” 

The victim in the bed lay quite still for a 


FIVE o'clock m THE MORKlN^. 


113 


moment. That mucli grace lie felt he must 
allow himself to recover from the shock of the 
announcement. Then he said, as cheerfully as 
he could speak, “ What did you say the hour 
was ? ” 

Close on live o’clock — awfully late,” answered 
both children, shouting their words into his 
ears. 

All right ; what do you want me to do ? ’■ 

To get up at once, and come with us to gather 
water-lilies.” 

^^Oh!” 

Isn’t it a delightful plan ? ” 

“Very. Are you sure the morning isn’t 
wet ? ” 

“ The morning wet, father ! The sun is shin- 
ing like anything. Run to the window, Mag, and. 
pull the blind up. Now you can see, can’t you, 
father ? ” 

“ I can, thanks, Eric.” 

“ Well, aren’t you getting up ? ” 

“ I will, if you will both favor me by retiring 
into the corridor for five minutes. And listen, 
even though it is my birthday, it isn’t necessary to 

have any more vie I mean, we need not 

wake the rest of the house.” 

“ Oh, we’ll be as quiet as mice,” retorted Mar- 
jorie. “ Dear father, you’ll promise to be very 
quick ? ” 


114 THE CttlLDREN OP WiLTON CHASE. 

“ Bear Maggie, I promise ; I am your devoted 
and humble servant for the rest of the day.” 

“ Isn’t father delicious ? ” said Marjorie, as they 
waited in the passage. 

Delicious ! ” retorted Eric ; what a girl’s 
expression ! One would think you were going 
to eat him. I tell you what it is, pater ought to 
be very much obliged to us for waking him. He 
was lazy, but he’ll have a time of it for the rest of 
the day.” 


CHAPTER X. 


THE EEIGN OF CHAOS. 

COLD bath and a rapid toilet after- 
ward effectually removed all traces of 
sleep from Mr. Wilton’s eyes. 

I feel like a sort of knight 
putting on my armor,” he said to himself. 

I am* going on a crusade for the rest of the 
day. A crusade against all my established 
customs, against all my dearly loved order, 
against my newspaper, my books, my quiet' 
pleasant meals. Well, it is for the sake of the 
children ; and their mother, bless her ” — here he 
glanced at the picture of the girl over the 
mantelpiece — “would smile at me if she could. 
Oh, yes, I buckle on my armor cheerfully 
enough. Hey, for Chaos ! Hey, for wild 
Mirth and childish Frivolity ! Here I come, 
Eric and Maggie — poor patient little mice 
that you are ! Here’s father at last. Give 
me your hand, Mag: you may jump on my 
shoulder, if you like. Now for a race down- 
stairs to the garden, and then you can tell 

no 




116 


THE CHILDEEN OF WILTON CHASE. 


me wliat you got me out of my bed in the 
middle of the night for.” 

Miss Wilton was quite right when she left 
the Chase the day before. She certainly would 
not have enjoyed being awakened from her 
early morning slumbers by the wild raid which 
now took place through the old house. There 
was a scamper, a rush, some shouts, not only 
from childish throats, but from a manly and 
decidedly bass voice. The poor respectable old 
house would have looked shocked if it could, 
but who cared what anything looked or felt 
when Chaos was abroad ? 

About three hours later a somewhat draggled- 
looking party might have been seen approaching 
the Chase. They were all dead tired, and all 
very untidy, not to say disreputable in appear- 
ance. The little girl’s brown Holland frock 
was not only torn, but smeared with mud and 
some sort of green mossy stuff which produces 
a deep stain very difficult for laundresses to 
remove. The little boy was also in a sorry 
plight, for he had a scratch across his cheek, 
and his knickers were cut through at the knees ; 
while the big boy, in other words, the man, 
looked the most untidy, the most fatigued, the 
most travel-stained of all. 

Ermengarde, in her neat white cool frock, 
with a green sash tied round her slim waist, 


THE KEIGN OF CHAOS. 


117 


and her long fair hair streaming down her back, 
came out to meet this party. She was accom- 
panied by Lucy, who was also neat and fresh and 
trim. The two had stepped out of the house to 
gather a few flowers to put on the breakfast-table, 
and now they assumed all the virtuous airs of 
those good moral people who do not get up to 
catch the early woi’m. 

What a figure you are, Maggie ! and what a 
disgraceful noise you and Eric made this morn- 
ing,” she began, in her most grown-up and icy 
tones. 

Oh, please don’t scold us, Ermengarde,” said 
Mr. Wilton. Look at our water-lilies, gaze well 
at them, and be merciful.” 

Yes, the water-lilies were superb — each jaded 
conqueror was laden with them — buds and blos- 
som and leaf, all were there — such buds, such 
blossoms, heavy and fragrant with richness. 

Ermie adored flowers. She uttered a little 
shriek of delight when her father held up a great 
mass of enormous waxen bells for her to bury her 
face in. 

Oh, delicious ! ” she exclaimed, “ but how 
tired you all are ! ” 

“ Yes, yes, yes,” exclaimed Victor No. 1, tired 
and starving, absolutely starving. Get us some 
breakfast, good Ermie, and put the lilies in water 
as quickly as you can.” 


118 THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 

Miss Nelson presided at tlie breakfast-table, 
and as tbis meal was eaten in tbe comfortable old 
schoolroom, and as Miss Nelson looked just as 
usual, just as orderly, just as neat and prim as she 
did yesterday, and as she would again to-morrow, 
her presence had a certain calming effect upon 
the rioters. They ate their meal with some 
decorum, and not more than three children spoke 
at the same moment. 

There was a grand consultation immediately 
after breakfast as to the proceedings of the day, 
and here it must be confessed Chaos once more 
mounted his throne, and held a most determined 
sway. 

After ten minutes of babel, Marjorie suddenly 
squatted herself on the floor, and began to write 
furiously. 

This was her programme : “ Kush upstairs 
and dress as fast as possible — don’t be long on 
account of keeping the carriages waiting. Put 
on our oldest, but we must be neat on account 
of father not liking dirty hands, and smuts on 
the top of the nose, and smears anywhere — we 
had better wear our best, perhaps — tumble into 
the carts and carriages and wagons, and drive 
to Bee’s Head, that’s ten miles away. Eric 
wants to go, the others don’t; Lucy and I are 
for Salter’s Point, on account of the shells, and 
that’s in the other direction. I think it’s 


THE EEIGH OF CHAOS. 


119 


quite eleven miles. Ermengarde votes for the 
Deep Woods, although I hate midges. Well, 
we’ll all go somewhere, and we’ll take every 
scrap of food that the house holds, even if 
there is to be a famine afterward; well, per- 
haps we oughtn’t to take every scrap, for the 
servants at home will be hungry, and we’ll 
want supper ourselves; we’ll be starving for it, 
I expect. Eric says the ferrets must come with 
us, for they ought to have fun like the rest of 
us on father’s birthday, particularly Shark, who 
has a great sense of humor. Ermie is nearly 
crying, for she’s afraid Shark will bite her, and 
Basil is winking at her, and trying to comfort 
her, and he’s frowning at Eric with the other 
side of his mouth, and Eric is putting out the 
tip of his tongue when he thinks no one is look- 
ing at him, which is vulgar, even though it is 
father’s birthday. What was I saying? I do 
get cramped and mixed, huddled up on the 
floor, scribbling. We’re to go for a long drive, 
to Bee’s Head, or somewhere, and the horses 
and the carriages and the servants and the 
ferrets and the children and father and all the 
food are to come too, and we are to have a 
great ball — no, that’s in the evening — and 
supper, and the fireworks will go off. Dear, 
dear, where are the fireworks to be squeezed? 
it’s a most confusing sort of day.” 


120 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Maggie ! ” suddenly exclaimed Basil. 

She raised a flushed face. 

^^What are you doing, huddled up on the 
floor like a ball ; and what’s that queer squiggly 
bit of paper in your hand ? — it looks all over 
hieroglyphics. Here, I must see ! ” he snatched 
at the paper, held it aloft, and read Marjorie’s 
programme aloud amid the roars of the com- 
pany. 

“I was only trying to make what we said 
less confusing,” answered Marjorie. I was 
getting it down as hard as I could, and I said 
I was mixed; anyone else would have been 
mixed too, I think.” 

“I should rather think they would,” said 
Basil. “ So that’s the nonsense we have been 
talking all this time. Thank you, Maggie, for 
showing us ourselves. Now, sir,” here Basil 
turned round and addressed his father. Mr. 
Wilton looked at him with the greatest admi- 
ration; he felt years younger than his son at 
the moment. 

“ Now, sir,” proceeded Basil, “ we cannot go to 
Bee’s Head, and Salter’s Point, and the Deep 
Woods all in the same morning, as the three 
places happen to be in totally different directions, 
and as each of them also happens to be from 
ten to twelve miles from here. We must 
make a choice, and we must abide by it. 


THE REIGH OF CHAOS. 


121 


It’s your birtliday, father, and you ought to 
choose. Which shall it be ? ” 

“Thank you, my boy, but I would not have 
the responsibility of a choice for the world — I 
don’t feel equal to it. You young folks must 
make the selection among you.” 

“ I’m for Bee’s Head and the lighthouse ! ” 
screamed Eric; “there’s a man at the light- 
house of the name of Bolster, and he prom- 
ised to get me some crabs, and I know he’d 
like to have a good stare at Shark. I’m for 
Bee’s Head and the lighthouse ; that’s what 
I’m for!” 

“ I think the Deep Woods would be best,” 
said Ermengarde. “ It’s sure to be grilling in 
the sun to-day, and I expect there’ll be a good 
deal of dust, and the dust and the sun together 
do make your face feel so horrid and smarty. 
Don’t they, Basil ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Basil, whose eyes were 
trying to interpret whether his father had 
any unspoken choice which might guide his 
own. 

“ Whereas in the Deep Woods it will be 
deliciously cool and fresh,” proceeded Ermen- 
garde in her sedate tones. 

“ Think of the midges and the gnats ! ” 
exclaimed Marjorie. “ Oh, I’d rather have the 
sun any day ! Who cares whether we are, 


122 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


burnt or not? Now at Salters’s Point there 
are such lo\^ely shells, real cowries, and those 
little pointers, and those sweet little yellow 
sea-snail shells.” 

“ Yes — yes — yes — I want to go to Salter’s 
Point ! ” exclaimed Lucy. 

Oh, the lighthouse is twice the fun,” 
exclaimed Eric, and I know Shark ” 

Once for all, father,” exclaimed Ermengarde, 
you are not going to allow that odious ferret 
to destroy the whole pleasure of our day ? I 
do wish, father, you’d vote for the Deep 
Woods.” 

Here comes Miss Nelson ; she shall decide,” 
answered Mr. Wilton. “ No, Eric, my boy, 
Shark must stay at home. There ! I have said 
it — no more words. Miss Nelson, please come 
and be our deliverer. These young people have 
divided ideas with regard to the locality for the 
great birthday picnic. Some vote for Bee’s 
Head, some for Salter’s Point, some for the 
Deep Woods — all cannot be pleased; you shall 
therefore make the choice. Where are we 
to go ? ” 

All the anxious pairs of eyes were imme- 
diately turned on Miss Nelson. She quite 
blushed under their battery. 

“ Think of Bolster and the lighthouse ! ” ex- 
claimed Eric. ‘^Bolster has a tank where he 


THE HEIGK OE CHAOS. 


123 


keeps his crabs alive. He can take ns np the 
tower, too, and show us the lanterns.” 

“Think of the shade of the Woods,” said 
Ermengarde. 

“ Oh, those cowrie and yellow snail shells ! ” 
sighed Marjorie. 

Miss Nelson only caught these last words. 
She looked down into the pleading gray eyes of 
her favorite, and her choice was made. 

“ We will go to Salter’s Point,” she said. 

Some hurrahs, accompanied by some groans, 
met her decision ; but it was a satisfaction to have 
anything fixed, and the children rushed upstairs 
to prepare for the great picnic. 

It was discovered that the large wagonette 
and the pony-carriage could accommodate the 
whole party, and accordingly, soon after eleven 
o’clock, they started in the highest possible 
spirits — even Miss Nelson casting away her 
mantle of care for the time, and Mr. Wilton, who 
had now thoroughly entered into the spirit of the 
fun, enjoying himself as much as the youngest 
child present. 

It was a glorious day, the breeze was only 
fresh, and the dust, notwithstanding Ermengarde’s 
fears, by no means excessive. 

The little girl soon therefore got over her 
slight disappointment at Miss Nelson’s choice 
not having been the same as her own. She 


124 


THE CIIILDEEN OP WILTON CHASE. 


was seated by her favorite Basil’s side, in the 
pony-carriage, the more riotous party, with Mr. 
Wilton at their head, having elected to go in the 
wagonette. 

Miss Nelson and two of the younger children 
sat opposite to Ermengarde and Basil. Ermen- 
garde would rather have had another vis-a-vis j 
but as the governess devoted her whole time 
to amusing the two little ones, Ermengarde 
decided to take no notice of her, and to give 
herself up to the delights of Basil’s conver- 
sation. 

Basil w’as a boy who, with all his sunny and 
pleasant ways, had a very reserved nature. There 
were in reality two Basils : one with a kindly 
word, a joke, a light jest, an affectionate manner 
for each and every one he came across ; the 
other was made of sterner stuff — grave, with 
deep thoughts and high aspirations, and very 
strong, almost rigid ideas with regard to honor 
and rectitude — this was the inner Basil, whose 
existence Ermengarde knew of, whom she adored, 
loved, admired, dreaded. 

This Basil had a heart which could be 
wounded, and Ermengarde knew well that, if 
she caused that deep heart a pang, it might 
close its doors against her, and shut her out 
in the cold, outside its affection and influence 
forever. 


THE EEIGN OF CHAOS. 


125 


By superficial observers Basil was considered 
one of the most forgiving and tbe most easily 
pleased people in tbe bouse. But Ermengarde 
knew better. Sbe knew things might happen 
which might make Basil a very stern and unre- 
lenting young judge. 

This morning, however, all was sunshine. 
Basil was in his sunniest humor. He would 
not talk all the time to Ermengarde, but gave 
Miss Nelson and the children enough of his 
conversation to make them feel in it all, and 
consequently in excellent spirits. But for his 
sister he had some tender glances, and one or 
two allusions which no one understood but 
herself, for the brother and sister had spent 
happy birthdays like this in their mother’s 
time, and they were both thinking of her 
to-day. 

A part of the road which led to Salter’s 
Point wound through the woods which lay at 
the back of Wilton Chase. There was plenty 
of shade, therefore, here, and Ermengarde lay 
back on her comfortable seat with a great 
feeling of rest and security. She almost forgot 
that miserable day which followed the boys’ 
return from school ; she even looked at Miss 
Nelson without being haunted by any sense 
of reproach. The governess’s worn face looked 
quite peaceful and happy ; and Ermengarde 


126 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTOH CHASE. 


hoped that she had really forgotten that tire- 
some old-fashioned miniature which had so 
mysteriously disappeared from her room. Ermie 
trusted that the stolen miniature would soon 
be forgotten, and she was fully convinced that 
her share in its disappearance would never be 
known. 

The wagonette, with its two horses, had dis- 
appeared from sight, and the pony-carriage, 
drawn by the pretty Shetlands with their tink- 
ling bells, was about to emerge through the 
park-gates, when there came a sudden inter- 
ruption. This was caused by Collins, the head 
keeper, who stepped across the road, and touched 
his hat to the whole party, and to Ermengarde 
in particular. 

“ I beg your pardon. Miss Nelson,” he said, 
addressing himself first of all to the governess, 
but the fact is we are in a little bit of trouble 
at home, and the goodwife said if I stood here 
I’d be sure to see Miss Ei^mengarde passing, 
and she knew Miss Ermengarde would come 
to Susy, just for one minute, as she wajits her 
so very badly.” 

On hearing these Avords Ermengarde turned 
so white that Miss Nelson thought she Avas 
going to faint. She started to her feet at once 
Avith a half-cry. “ Oh, please let me go,” she 
said eagerly. Her hand shook ; she would 


THE REIGN OF CHAOS. 


127 


have leaped out of the carriage had not Basil 
held her back. 

“ Sit quiet, Ermengarde,” said her governess 
authoritatively. “ Now, Collins, please explain 
why it is necessary that Miss Wilton should 
see your daughter at this inconvenient moment, 
when we are just on our way to Salter’s Point ; 
you are aware that Mr. Wilton has forbidden any 
intimacy.” 

“Oh, let me go; I won’t keep you two min- 
utes,” said Ermie. 

“ Quiet, Ermengarde. Now, Collins, what does 
Susan want with Miss Wilton ? ” 

Collins had a strongly-marked face, and it 
flushed now rather angrily. 

“ I can’t say, I’m sure, miss,” he said. “ The 
poor child is all in a fluster, and as to Miss 
Ermengarde, poor Susy worships the very 
ground she walks on. You haven’t, maybe, 
heard of the accident that has happened to her, 
miss ? ” 

Miss Nelson’s manner became gentle at once. 
Ermengarde was about to burst forth with 
another exclamation ; the governess laid her hand 
on the little girl’s arm with a not unkind pressure. 
“ One moment, Ermie. No, Collins, we have not 
heard of any accident. I sincerely trust your 
daughter has come to no harm.” 

“Well, miss, for the matter of that, Susy’s life 


128 


THE CHILDREN- OF WILTON CHASE. 


ain’t in danger, but she has broke her leg ; a bad 
fracture, too, midway between the knee and the 
ankle. Poor child, she’s for all like a boy in 
some of her ways, and she was climbing a tree to 
get a glimpse of me, she said, the rogue ; and a 
rotten bough broke under her, and she came down 
right on her leg. The poor thing was insensible 
when I took her up, miss, but she’s better now, of 
course, and the leg was set by Doctor Reeves last 
night.” 

“ Oh, do let me go to her,” said Ermengarde ; 
what does a stupid picnic matter ? Basil, won’t 
you S23eak up for me. Do get Miss Nelson to let 
me go at once.” 

“ Poor Susy, she’s feverish a bit,” said Collins, 
favoring Ermengarde with a quick grateful 
glance, “and she have been crying out all the 
morning and half the night for missie. It was 
that made the wife think of me standing here to 
watch, in case Miss Ermengarde might spare a 
minute or two from the day’s pleasure to give to 
the poor child.” 

“ I am sorry for you, Collins,” said Miss Nelson ; 
“ and the story of the accident certainly alters 
matters a good deal. I do not think Mr. Wilton 
will object to Ermengarde’s going to Susan for a 
moment.” 

“ Thank you,” said Ermie, with a great breath 
of relief. 


THE EEIGK OF CHAOS. 


129 


dear child, you need not tremble so. 
Steady, you will fall on your face. Basil, help 
your sister out of the carriage. We will give 
you five minutes, Ermengarde. Collins, be sure 
you send for anything necessary for Susan to 
the Chase.” 

Collins touched his hat and withdrew. 
Ermengarde had already flown down a little 
path which led directly to the keeper’s little 
cottage. 

“ Poor child, I did not know she was so 
sensitive,” said Miss Nelson to Basil. He was 
standing by the side of the carriage, and she 
thought he had not heard her remark, for he 
turned his head away. 

Meanwhile Ermengarde, having reached the 
cottage, was promptly taken upstairs to Susy’s 
little attic-room by her mother. 

The poor little girl had gone through a night 
of dreadful sufiering, and at another time her 
flushed face and feverishly bright blue eyes 
would have excited Errnengarde’s pity, and she 
would have been as gentle and sympathetic in 
her manner as heart could wish. The influence 
of fear, however, and the consciousness of 
wrongdoing, have a wonderfully hardening 
effect upon the best of us, and Ermie only 
waited until Mrs. Collins’s back was turned to 
say crossly: “What did you mean by sending 


180 


THE CHILBHEH OP WlLTO^T CHASE. 


for me in that fashion, Susy? and after what 
I said to you yesterday. I do think you have 
no consideration ! I got a horrible fright when 
your father came up, and asked point-blank for 
me, and before Miss Nelson, too ! ” 

The harsh words made Susy cry. 

“I’m dreadful bad,” she said, her pretty lips 
quivering. “ Oh, Miss Ermie, don’t look at me 
like that. I did think you’d have been sorry 
for me, and when I always set such store by 
you, miss.” 

“ Of course I’m sorry for you, Susy, but I 
really can’t stay now, or they’ll remark it. If 
3mu want me very badly. I’ll try and slip up 
here one evening. There, if you like, and it 
really quiets you. I’ll come to-night. I’ll 
promise that I’ll manage it somehow, but I 
must go now.” 

“ Oh, miss, please take the picture with you ! 
Put it in your pocket, miss. Oh, do take it 
away. Miss Ermengarde; I had such awful, 
awful dreams about it all night long, and I 
fancied as the little lady herself come and told 
me I was to put the picture back. I saw her 
come in at the door heaps of times, and she 
always told me to put the picture back, and to 
be quick about it. Please put the picture into 
your pocket. Miss Ermengarde.” 

Ermengarde laughed harshly. 


THE EEIGH OF CHAOS. 


131 


You must be mad, Susan,” she said. How 
could I put a miniature in a glass frame into 
the pocket of this thin dress? Why, everyone 
would see it, and then where should I be ? It’s 
all your own fault, Susy; you would not give 
up the picture yesterday when I coaxed you to, 
and now you must keep it until it is convenient 
for me to fetch it. If I can. I’ll come for it 
to-night.” 

Mother will find it out, miss. I can’t move 
hand nor foot, and mother has only to open 
my drawer at the top there, and she’ll see it. 
Mother’ll know at once that I took it, for the 
servants at the Chase are talking about it. I 
do wish you’d get it out of the house somehow. 
Miss Ermengarde.” 

“I can’t, I tell you. It wouldn’t get into my 
pocket. Oh, dear, dear, there’s your mother’s 
step on the stairs, and I must fly. What a 
horrid troublesome girl you are, Susy. I wish 
I had never made friends with you ! ” 

Poor Susan began to cry feebly. 

Oh, Miss Ermie, you are cruel,” she said. 

And mother is sure to open that top drawer, 
for I keep all my handkerchiefs in it. I pre- 
tended the key was lost, but she found it her- 
self this morning, and she was just going to 
open the drawer when you came in, and I 
thought I was saved. Please^ Miss Ermie, if 


132 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


you won’t take tke picture away, put it some- 
where else.” 

Mrs. Collins’s step was now really heard on 
the creaking stairs. Ermengarde flew to the 
drawer, unlocked it, seized the little miniature 
and looked round her wildly. The next moment 
she had pushed it between the paillasse and 
mattress of Susy’s bed. 

“ I’ll come an^ fetch it to-night, whatever 
happens,” she said. 


CHAPTER XL 


AFTER THE FUN. 

HERE was wild fun at Salter’s Point. A 
cove was found witli yellow sand as 
smootL as glass ; here tlie picnic dinner 
was spread, and here the boys and girls 
laughed heartily and enjoyed themselves well. 
There seemed no hitch anywhere, and if Basil 
kept a little aloof from Ermengarde, and if 
Ermengarde was a trifle more subdued and had 
less of a superior air than was her wont, no 
one noticed these small circumstances. Marjorie 
laughed until she cried ; Eric stood on his head 
and turned somersaults, and performed conjuring 
tricks, and was really the most witty, fascinating 
little fellow. Even Miss Nelson laughed at 
Eric, and Mr. Wilton openly regretted that the 
old established position of the family at Wilton 
Chase prevented his making his son a clown at 
the pantomime. 

But the brightest days come to an end, and 
when the picnic dinner was eaten, the dishes 
washed and replaced in their baskets, when 
each child, aided by patient Marjorie, had secured 
133 




134 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


a liberal supply of shells, and each little chubby 
face had gazed with ecstasy into the pools which 
contained the wonderful gardens of seaweeds and 
sea-anemones, it was time to pack the wagonette 
once more, to fill the pony-carriage, and to start 
for home. 

Ermengarde once more seated herself in the 
pony-carriage. Basil was standing near. 

Come,” she said to him. “ Miss Nelson can 
go home in the wagonette, and then you and I 
can have these comfortable seats facing the 
horses. Come ! what are you standing dreaming 
there for ? ” 

beg your pardon,” said Basil starting. 
^‘No. I promised Maggie to go back in the 
wagonette, and here comes Miss Nelson. Oh, 
Miss Nelson, you do look fagged out. Here’s a 
jolly seat for you next to Ermengarde, in the 
pony-trap, and these three young ’uns can be 
packed together at the other side. Now then, 
babies, pop in. Look out, Lucy ; don’t tread on 
Polly’s toes — off you go.” 

The ponies started forward at a round pace; 
a deep fiush mounted to Ermengarde’s brow. 
What was the matter with Basil ? He was 
always good-natured, certainly, but at another 
time he would have jumped at her offer, for 
Miss Nelson would really have been just as 
happy in the wagonette. Ermengarde now 


AFTER THE FUN. 


135 


remembered tliat Basil bad been a little queer 
to her all day, a tiny bit distant, not quite bis 
cordial self. Could be suspect anything ? But 
no, that was absolutely impossible. 

Miss Nelson thought her eldest pupil rather 
sulky during the drive back. She sighed once 
or twice as she glanced at the girl’s irresponsive 
face. Ermengarde was certainly difficult to 
manage. Should she continue to take charge 
of her? Would it not be best to own at once 
that over this girl she had no influence, and 
to ask Mr Wilton to remove Ermeno:arde from 
her care ? 

The party reached home, and supper and 
fireworks, according to Marjorie’s programme, 
were all crowded into the happy day. But 
at last tired eyes could keep open no longer, 
the small children were tucked into their nests, 
and the elder ones were by no means sorry to 
follow their example. 

Oh, I am tired out,” said Marjorie to Ermen- 
garde. It is nice to think of getting into one’s 
bed, and going off into a long, long sleep. And 
hadn’t we a happy day, Ermie ? ” 

^Wes,” said Ermengarde, in an abstracted 
voice. She was standing by the window. She 
had not attempted to undress. 

Hudson generally helped the little girls to 
prepare for the night, but as she was particu- 


136 


THE CIIILDEEH OF WILTON CHASE. 


larly busy reducing Chaos to order downstairs, 
Marjorie had said they could get on quite well 
alone for this one evening. She now came to 
Ermengarde, to ask her to unfasten a knot in 
her dress. 

“And why don’t you take off your own 
things, Ermie ? ” she said. 

“There’s no particular hurry,” said Ermen- 
garde. 

“ But aren’t you dreadfully tired ? ” 

“No. I did not get up at four o’clock this 
morning.” 

“ Oh, what fun we had waking father ! ” began 
Marjorie. “If you had only seen Eric; and 
father’s face when first he opened his eyes. I 
do believe — why, what’s the matter, Ermie, 
have you a headache ? ” 

“No; how you do worry one, Maggie! Go 
to bed, and try to stop talking; I want to 
think, and to be let alone. I’ll come to bed 
when I feel inclined.” 

A torrent of words came to the tip of Mar- 
jorie’s tongue, but she restrained them. It was 
Ermie’s custom sometimes to be very snappy 
and uncommunicative. She concluded the wisest 
policy was to let her sister alone, and to go to 
sleep herself as fast as possible. 

Accordingly she knelt for a few moments by 
her bedside in her little white nightdress, and 


AFTER THE FUH. 


137 


then tumbled into it, and with a happy sigh 
went ol? into the land of dreams. 

A moment or two later Ermengarde softly 
opened the door of the sleeping-room and went 
out. It was ten o’clock, and the household, 
tired from the day’s pleasuring, were all pre- 
paring to go to bed. Ermengarde ran along 
the corridor, flew downstairs the back way, 
and found herself in the schoolroom part of 
the house. She took her waterproof cloak and 
an old garden-hat from a peg on the wall, and 
let herself out by a side-door. If she ran very 
fast she would probably be back before George, 
the old butler, had drawn the bolts and put 
the chain on for the night. If not, she knew 
that it ‘would not be difficult to open one of 
the schoolroom windows, which were low, and 
as often as not unhasped. Ermengarde had 
herself noticed that the bolt of one was not 
fastened that evening. If the worst came, she 
could return to her little bed that way, but 
she fully expected to be in time to come back 
by the door. 

The moment she got out, she slipped on her 
waterproof and hat, and then, with the speed 
and lightness of a little fawn, flew down the 
narrow pathway which led first to the park, 
and then across it to the keeper’s cottage. 

The moonlight lay in silver bars over the 


138 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


grass, and when Ermengarde got under the 
trees their great shadows looked black and 
portentous. At another time she might have 
felt some sensations of fear at finding herself 
at so late an hour alone in the woods, but she 
was too intent now on the object of her mission 
to have any room for nervousness. She was 
out of breath when she reached the cottage, 
but to her relief saw that its inmates were not 
yet in bed, for light shone from the kitchen 
and also from Susy’s bedroom. 

Ermengarde’s knock at the kitchen door was 
answered by Mrs. Collins herself. 

Oh, Miss Wilton, I am pleased to see you,” 
she said. “ Susy was fretting ever so for fear 
you wouldn’t be able to keep your word. Come 
in, miss, please; and has Master Basil come 
with you ? or maybe it’s Hudson ? I hope who- 
ever it is will be pleased to walk in and wait 
in the kitchen.” 

“ No, IVe come alone,” said Ermengarde 
shortly. You know I am not allowed to be 
with Susy, so how could I possibly ask anyone 
to come with me ? ” 

Oh, my dear young lady, as if my poor child 
could harm any one ! You are good and brave, 
Miss Ermengarde; as brave as you’re beautiful, 
and I’m sure we’ll none of us ever forget it to 
you. No, that we won’t,” 


Ai'TEH THE EHH. 


139 


Ermengarde was never proof against flattery. 
A satisfied smile stole now over her face. 

I was not at all afraid,” she said. “ I had 
given my word that I would come, and of course 
a lady’s word must always be kept. How is 
Susy, Mrs. Collins ? ” 

“ Oh, my dear, but poorly. Very fractious and 
feverish, and her pain is considerable. But she’ll 
be better after she has seen you, my sweet young 
lady, for no one knows better than Susy how to 
appreciate condescension.” 

“Well, I can’t wait more than a minute, Mrs. 
Collins. I’ll just run up and say good-night to 
Susy, and then I must be off.” 

“ Shall I light you up, miss ? ” 

“ No, thank you, I can see my way perfectly.” 

Ermengarde ran up the little wooden ladder- 
like stairs, and bounded somewhat noisily into 
Susy’s bedroom. 

“ Here I am, Susy; now give me the miniature 
at once. I’ll hide it under my waterproof cloak.” 

“ I can’t reach to it, miss,” said Susy. “ It’s 
where you put it this morning, atween the mat- 
tress and the paillasse, and I had the greatest 
work keeping mother’s hands off it, for she was 
bent on making the bed all over again.” 

“ Well, I’ll take it now. Yes, here it is.” 

Ermengarde pulled the little case from under 
the bed. 


140 


THE CHILDREN OE WlLTOH CHASE. 


“ O Susy ! ” slie said, uttering an exclamation 
of dismay, what shall we do ? The ivory on 
which the picture is painted is cracked right 
across ! Oh, what a queer expression it gives to 
the little girl’s face, and w^hat will Miss Nelson 
say?” 

Now, miss, you’re not going to betray me 
about it, and me so bad and ill ? ” 

No, you little coward, you shan’t get into any 
scrape. How did this happen ? The picture was 
right enough this morning.” 

“ I expect it was the way you pushed it under 
the bed, miss. It got knocked most likely, and 
father was sitting just over it for an hour 
and more this afternoon, and he’s a goodish 
weight.” 

^^'Well, I shall take the miniature away now, so 
good-night, Susy. I’m very sorry I ever made 
such a little thief as you" are my friend. A nice 
scrape you’ve got me into ! ” 

Ermengarde thrust the miniature under her 
waterproof, and rushed downstairs. . 

Grood-night, Mrs. Collins,” she said. 

Stay a minute, miss. Collins is just coming 
in, and he’ll see you home.” 

“No, I can’t possibly wait. I think Susy is 
better — good-night.” 

“ But ain’t you afeared to go right across the 
park by yourself at this hour, miss ? ” 


AFTER THE FUK. 


141 


No — no — no ; good-night, good-niglit ! ” 
Ermengarde’s voice already sounded far away. 
Her feet seemed to Lave wings, she ran so fast. 
As she ran she heard the stable-clock strike 
eleven. 

Oh, I do trust they have not locked up the 
house ! ” she exclaimed. “ Suppose they have, 
and suppose George has put the bolt on the 
schoolroom window ? He’s as careless as 
possible about fastening the bolts of the 
windows as a rule, but it would be like him to 
do it to-night of all nights. Oh, Avhat shall I 
do, if that has happened ? ” 

Ermengarde’s heart beat so fast at the bare 
idea that she could scarcely run. She stumbled, 
too, over a piece of twig which lay across her 
path, and falling somewhat heavily scraped her 
forehead. She had no time to think of the 
pain then. Rising as quickly as possible, she 
panted along the familiar road. How weary it 
was ! How tedious ! Would it never, never 
end ? 

At last she came under the shadows caused 
by the rambling old house. She flew down a 
side-walk which led through a shrubbery; now 
she was passing under the window of Miss 
Nelson’s private room, now she saw the three long 
low windows of the dear cozy old schoolroom. 
The blinds were drawn down, and there was 


142 THE CHILBitEH OE WlLTON CHASE. 

light within — a faint light, it is true, but still 
li^ht. Ermengarde felt a sense both of relief 
and fear. I 

The side-entrance door was reached at last. 
She turned the handle. Her fingers were jjold 
and trembling. The handle turned, but I the 
door did not move. Had she turned the handle 
of the door quite round — were her fingers! too 
weak for the task ? She tried again in vain. 
Then she uttered a sound something between a 
sob and a cry — she was really locked out ! 

/^What shall I do?” murmured the unhappy 
child. 

She looked around her wildly. She did not 
dare try the schoolroom window while that 
light remained within. She leant up against 
the locked door, trembling, incapable of action ; 
a very little would have made her lose her self- 
control. 

At this moment her sharp ear heard a sound ; 
the sound was made by a movement in the 
schoolroom. Ermengarde started away a step 
or two from the hall-door; she saw some one 
go up to one of the windows and, without 
drawing up the blind, put a hand underneath 
to feel if the fastening was to. It was not, 
but was immediately bolted. The steps then 
went across the room. 

At this moment Ermengarde felt desperate. 


AI'TEtl THE 


143 


Old George was faithful to-night, of all nights. 
Dreadful, terrible old George ! 

Suddenly in her despair she seized* upon the 
last chance of succor. She would call to 
George to let her in, and afterward trust to 
her wits to bribe the old servant to silence. 

No sooner did this idea come to her than she 
acted on it, and in a frenzy of terror began to 
call George’s name through the keyhole. 

A step came into the passage, there was a 
surprised pause, then a rush to the door, which 
was quickly opened. Basil, not George, stood 
before Ermengarde. 

Ermie ! ” he exclaimed. His face got crim- 
son, then it turned white. His first exclama- 
tion had been full of astonished affection and 
concern, but in a fiash his manner altered; he 
caught Ermengarde roughly by the shoulder, 
and dragged her into the house. 

“ Come into the schoolroom,” he said. 

O Basil, don’t — don’t look at me like that.” 

I’m not looking at you in any way. I must 
lock this door, I suppose. Did you know it was 
past eleven o’clock ? ” 

“Yes, yes, I heard the stable-clock strike. 
Oh, I was so terrified. Basil, why are you 
looking like that ? ” 

“ I’m not looking any way. Don’t be a 
goose. Here, come into the schoolroom.” 


144 


THE CHILDREN- OF WILTON CHASE. 


No, I am tired. I want to go to bed. I’ll — 
I’ll explain everything to you to-morrow.” 

^^Look here, Ermengarde.” Basil held a 
small lamp in his hand, and its light fell on 
Erm^ngarde’s face. Yon have got to come into 
the schoolroom and make nc^ words about it, 
or I’ll — I’ll take you, just as you are, straight 
away to father, to his study.” 

“ You are very cruel,” sobbed Ermengarde. 
But she went into the schoolroom without 
another word. 

Basil followed her, and shut the door behind 
him. 

“ Now look here,” he said. “ I don’t want to 
hector you, nor any nonsense of that sort, but 
you have got to tell me the truth without 
making any bones about it. What’s up with 
you, Ermengarde — what’s wrong ? ” 

He had set the lamp on the mantelpiece, 
and stood himself facing its full light. His 
olive-tinted face looked stern and dark; there 
was no tenderness in his manner. 

Ermengarde drew up her slight little figure 
proudly. “ You are not my father, ” she said. 

I won’t answer you when you speak to me in 
that tone.” 

“All right! you shall come to the one who 
has a right to order you. Come along.” 

“ No, Basil, no ; how can you be so unkind ? ” 


AFTER THE FITH. 


145 


She wrenched her hand from his clasp. Her 
words came out in a sob, tears rushed to her 
eyes. 

‘‘ O Basil, I have always loved you.” 

“Stuff, this is no minute for sentiment.* I 
love honorable and truthful girls ; I loved a 
sister who was that. Now tell me the truth, 
and be quick about it, for if you don’t. I’ll take 
you to father; he’s not in bed, but he will be 
soon, so you had better make up your mind 
at once.” 

“ What am I to say to you, Basil ? ” 

“ That’s for you to decide. You know what’s 
up ; I don’t. You know why you turned so 
queer this morning when Collins stopjDed the 
pony-trap, and why you are out all by yourself 
close on midnight.” 

“ I went to see Susy Collins. I don’t know 
why you should speak to me in that tone. 

‘'•Do stop bothering about my tone, Ermie. 
Can’t you see that you have done frightfully 

wrong ? I — I ” He gulped down something 

in his throat. “There; I can’t speak of it, I 
think I’m stunned. I simply can’t make out 
what has come to you, having secrets with a 
girl my father has forbidden you to know !” 

“ I haven’t secrets with her.” 

“ You have. For goodness’ sake, don’t add 
lying to all the rest of it. Would you have 


146 


THU OHILBUUN OU WILTON OHASE. 


turned so wliite this morning if you hadn’t a 
secret, and would yoti have crept out of the 
house in this disgraceful way if you hadn’t a 
secret ? Come, Ermie, I’m older than you — 
and — and — our mother isn’t here. Tell me 
all about it, Ermie.” 

This was Ermengarde’s chance. For the 
moment the severe young judge before her was 
softened ; a memory of his mother had done it ; 
that, and the knowledge that Ermengarde was 
younger and frailer than himself. Had she told 
him the whole truth then, she might have saved 
herself with Basil. Like many another, how- 
ever, she let the golden moment pass. 

For half a minute she was absolutely silent. 
Then she said in her most stubborn voice : “ I 
don’t tell lies — I have no secret with Susy. 
I went to her to-night because I was sorry for 
her, and because I — I — I was afraid to stay 
long enough this morning. Everyone is so 
horridly hard on me because I befriend a 
poor little girl like Susy, and now when 
she is ill and all. That’s why I went to 
her secretly, because — because people make me 
afraid.” 

“ When you say people, you mean our father ? ” 

“Well, yes; I think it is horrid of father to 
make such a fuss about my knowing Susy. 
Mother wouldn’t have done it.” 


AFTER THE FUH. 


147 


don’t bring mother into this conver- 
sation, Ermengarde.” Basil knit bis brows in 
pain. 

I suppose I may go to bed now,” said 
Ermengarde, after a long pause. I have 

nothing more to say. I went to see Susy 
because I was sorry for her, and I — I was 
afraid — that’s all. If I were to stay here till 
morning I could not say anything more.” 

Whatever effect these words of Ermengarde 
might have had upon Basil — whether he would 
have believed her, and only attributed to her 
the sin of disobedience in seeking another inter- 
view with Susy — can never be known; for, as 
the little girl, interpreting his silence for consent, 
was about to leave the room, she stumbled 
against a footstool, and the precious miniature 
fell from its place of concealment to the floor. 

Ermengarde uttered a cry, but before she 
could even stoop to pick up the picture, Basil 
had seized it ; he gave it one look, his lips 
twitched curiously, then he slipped it into the 
inner pocket of his Eton jacket. 

“ Basil, Basil, oh give it to me ! Basil, Basil, 
please give me that picture back ! ” 

“ No — it isn’t yours — I know your secret. 
You can go to bed now. I don’t want to say 
anything more to you to-night.” 

Basil!” 


148 


THE CHILDKEN OF WILTOH CHASE. 


In her terror and anguisli Ermengarde went 
on her knees. 

O Basil, be merciful ! I’ll tell you every- 
thing. I will, really and truly.” 

‘^Get up, Ermengarde. For goodness’ sake, 
don’t make an exhibition of yourself. I don’t 
want to hear anything more you have got to 
say. Go to bed, and leave me in peace.” 

Give me back the miniature.” 

“ Certainly not. It is not yours.” 

What will you do with it ? ” 

Give it back to Miss Nelson, of course.” 

Then I am lost.” Ermengarde gave a bitter 
cry, and rushed to the door. Before she could 
reach it, Basil stepped before her. 

“ Don’t go into hysterics,” he said. Go up 
to your room and keep quiet. You have done 
mischief enough, and caused suffering enough. 
Don’t add to it all by making a fuss and waking 
the house. I have got some feeling, and I can 
not speak to you to-night. This has somehow 
taken the — the courage out of me. I’ll think 
it over to-night, and I’ll see you again in the 
morning.” 

O Basil ! And you won’t tell anyone till 
you have seen me again ? ” 

Basil put his hand up to his forehead. He 
considered for a moment. I think I may 
promise that,” he said then slowly. 


AFTER THE FUN. 


149 


“ And where am I to meet you, Basil ? ” 

“ Meet me in the shrubbery after morning 
school. Now go to bed.” 

He took up the lamp and left the schoolroom. 
Ermengarde watched him as he slowly ascended 
the stairs and turned down the corridor which led 
to the boys’ bedrooms. He. took the light away 
with him in more senses than one, but Ermen- 
garde little recked of darkness just then. She 
threw herself on the floor in the old schoolroom, 
and gave vent to a passion of weeping, shedding 
tears which not even her mother’s death had 
wrung from her. 


CHAPTER XIL 


AFTER THE BIRTHDAY. 



HE usual effects of a holiday were 
visible the next morning. The 
children were all a little tired and 
out of sorts. It was difficult for the 
schoolroom party to get into harness again, and 
even Eric and the nursery children were some- 
what captious and discontented. 

Father’s birthday is the farthest off of all 
now,” said little Molly, the five-year-old darling. 
‘^There’s no birthday like father’s, and it’s the 
farthest off of all. I’m dreadful sorry.” 

“Oh, shut up,” said Eric. “Who wants to 
hear that dismal dirge.” 

“Molly says that about the birthdays always 
the next morning,” volunteered Dick, who was a 
year older, and who wanted to curry favor with 
Eric by agreeing with him. “ Molly is a silly, 
isn’t she ? ” he added, fixing his big blue eyes 
admiringly on his brother. 

“ You’re a greater,” snapped Eric. “ Who 
cried yesterday when the ant stung him, and 
who would eat too much plumcake ? ” 

150 


AFTEK THE BIRTHDAY. 


151 


Dick looked inclined to cry again, and Molly 
laughed maliciously. Altogether the atmos- 
phere was charged with electricity, and the 
entrance of Ermengarde, her face considerably 
disfigured with the scar she had received Nvhen 
she fell the night before, was hailed with 
naughty delight by the children. 

A torrent of questions assailed her. Had 
she fought with Marjorie in the night, and 
had Marjorie come oft' victorious ? Oh, brave 
Marjorie, to dare to assail the acknowledged 
beauty of the family ! What had happened 
to Ermie? Surely she had not inflicted the 
wound on herself ? 

Basil was seated in his usual place near the 
head of the table. He had scarcely heard the 
little scrimmage of words which was going on 
on all sides. Basil was in a brown study, and^ 
as Eric expressed it, as cross as a bear with a 
sore head. 

When Ermengarde entered the room, he 
glanced at her for a second ; but contrary to 
his wont, he took no notice when the children 
began to laugh and gibe. 

Ermengarde’s place beside Basil was empty. 
She seated herself, and as the children continued 
to make remarks and to laugh, turned her 
head impatiently away. Their quips affected 
her in reality only as pin-pricks, but she -was 


152 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


very mucli afraid tliat Miss Nelson would 
notice the disfiguring cut on her brow. 

“ Do be quiet, children,” said Marjorie. Eric, 
can’t you see that Ermie has a headache ? 
Can’fi you keep them from making so much 
noise, Eric ? ” 

Quiet then, young ’uns,” said Eric. Can’t 
you see that the Prime Minister of her Royal 
Highness has uttered a mandate ? ” 

The children laughed noisily, and at that 
moment Miss Nelson, who had* been absorbed 
over the contents of a particularly interesting 
letter, raised her head with a start. 

Gently, little ones ! What is all this noise 
about ? ” she said. Molly and Dick, you must 
have breakfast with nurse, if you can’t behave 
better in the schoolroom. Good-morning, 
Ermengarde, my dear. I am sorry I shall be 
obliged to give you a bad mark for being late at 
breakfast. Why, my dear child,” changing her 
note to one of concern, ^^what has happened to 
you? You have got quite an ugly scar across 
your forehead. How did you get it ? ” 

“ I fell,” said Ermengarde, in a low voice. 

“ You fell — where ? ” 

Ermengarde felt that Basil had ceased to use 
his knife and fork, while he listened for her 
reply. She seized a cup of scalding tea, and 
choked Qver its couteats, 


AFTER THE BIRTHDAY. 


153 


“ Where did you fall, my dear ? ” asked the 
governess kindly. 

Please, ma’am, Ermengarde and Maggie had a 
stand-up tight in the middle of the night,” inter- 
rupted Eric. Oh, my stars ! ” he added, sotto 
voce, if tight and night ain’t a rhyme made unbe- 
known. Now I can wish.” 

Shut up ! ” growled Basil. 

Eric, be quiet,” said the governess. 

She turned again to Ermengarde. Her manner 
was very gentle. 

Where did you fall, dear ? ” she said. You 
have given yourself a very nasty cut, and should 
have come to me for some dressing for it. But 
where did it happen, my love ? ” 

“ In the park,” said Ermengarde, in a low voice. 

I fell over a bramble and cut myself.” 

never saw you fall, Ermie,” said Marjorie. 
“Was it Avhen we all had that race, just 
when the fireworks were over ? How brave 
of you not to make a fuss ! it must have been 
then.” 

“You don’t look well, dear,” continued the 
governess. “Your eyes have red rings round 
them, and you are paler than such a healthy little 
girl ought to be. Have you a headache ? ” 

“Yes,” confessed Ermengarde. She could 
at least be truthful here, for her head ached 
considera-bly. 


154 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


You shall have some of my eau de Cologne 
to use if you like, darling,” whispered Marjorie. 

Now, children,” said Miss Nelson, rising from 
the breakfast-table, and making one of those prim 
little speeches which Ermengarde detested, “ hav- 
ing had our day of pleasure, we will return with 
greater zest to our usual employments. Little 
ones, go quietly up to nurse. No noise, please. 
Leave the breakfast-room hand in hand. Boys, 
I must request of you not to disturb your sisters 
with any hammering or noisy carpentering this 
morning.” 

“ Please, are the ferrets far enough away for 
me to have a quiet little game with them?” 
asked Eric meekly. He pulled his forelock as 
he spoke, and put on the air of a charity-school- 
boy. 

Miss Nelson favored him with the shadow of a 
smile, and continued ; 

Ermengarde, Marjorie, and Lucy, we wdll 
meet in the schoolroom for our usual morning 
work in half an hour. Ah, what is the matter, 
George ? ” 

The old butler had entered unobserved. 

If you please, ma’am,” he said in his most 
respectful tones, “my master’s compliments, and 
he would be obliged if you and Miss Wilton 
would come to him for a few minutes to the 
study before you begins the morning work.” 


AFTER THE BIRTHDAY. 


155 


“ Certainly, George. Tell Mr. Wilton we will 
be with bim in a minute or two.” 

The governess flushed up a little at this 
unexpected summons, but the color which 
came into her faded cheeks was nothing at all to 
the brilliant red which suffused Ermengarde’s 
face. She darted an angry inquiring look at 
Basil, who for the first time met her glance 
with a proud cold gaze. He turned on his 
heel, and leisurely left the room, the other 
children following his example. 

“ Come, Errnie, we may as well see what your 
father wants with us,” said Miss Nelson cheer- 
fully. “My love, I am sorry you have a head- 
ache, and that you fell that time without letting 
anyone know.” 

“ Please, I would much rather not go to father 
to the study,” said Ermengarde, backing a pace 
or two. She looked really frightened. 

“You think your father will be vexed about 
that cut on your brow, dear ? But I can 
explain that. You have really been brave, not 
to make a fuss, nor to spoil the pleasure of the 
other children. Come, my dear, we must not 
keep your father waiting.” 

Miss Nelson took Ermengarde’s hand ; it 
lay cold and irresponsive in her clasp. They 
left the breakfast-room together, and a moment 
later were in Mr. Wilton’s presence. 


156 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Tlie fatlier wlio was tlie heart and soul of the 
birthday, who was everybody’s playmate, and 
hail-fellow-well-met even with the youngest 
of his children, was a totally different person 
from Mr. Wilton, owner of Wilton Chase, and 
the master, not only of his extensive property, 
but of poor timid Miss Nelson and of wondering 
Ermengarde. Mr. Wilton could be the jolliest 
of companions if he pleased, but he also could 
be stern, with a severity which Basil inherited. 
At such times his face was scarcely prepossess- 
ing. He came of a proud race, and pride, mixed 
with an almost overbearing haughtiness of 
manner, made him a person to be dreaded at 
such moments. 

As soon as Miss Nelson . and Ermengarde 
entered the study, they saw that Mr. Wilton had 
put on the manner which made him to be feared. 
Miss Nelson, who had thawed under the genial 
sunshine of the day before, now froze, and her 
speech instantly became broken, nervous, and 
ill at ease. Ermengarde frowned, turned her 
head away, and got that blank look over her 
face which always made her such a difficult 
child to deal with. 

^^Good-morning, Miss Nelson,” said Mr. 
Wilton, I have sent for you and Ermengarde 
together, in order that I may ask for an explana- 
tion. I did not moot the question yesterday, 


AFTER THE BIRTHDAY. 


157 


although the circumstance which aroused my 
displeasure occurred the day before. Pray take 
this chair, Miss Nelson.” 

Mr. Wilton did not offer Ermengarde any 
seat. Beyond a brief glance, he did not look 
at her. The little girl stood silent by her gover- 
ness’s side. Whatever was coming she owned 
now to a sense of relief. Her father was allud- 
ing to something which had occurred the day 
before yesterday. Basil had therefore not 
betrayed her — the worst was not known. She 
roused herself from a brief revery to hear her 
father speaking. 

Some time ago. Miss Nelson, I made a 
request to you, and I gave Ermengarde a 
very strict command. I find that my com- 
mand has been defied by Ermengarde, and I 
wish to know if there has been any negligence 
on your part.” 

“ My dear sir, to what do you allude ? ” asked 
Miss Nelson. 

‘‘To something which you cannot have for- 
gotten, for I spoke seriously to you on the 
subject. I said that Ermengarde was to hold 
no intercourse with a little girl called Susan 
Collins. I liad my reasons for this, quite in- 
dependent of the fact that the child belongs to 
a lower class of life. I know that she is the 
daughter of a vain and silly mother, and, even 


158 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTOH CHASE. 


if she were her equal by birth, would be the 
worst possible companion for Ermengarde. Did 
I not make my wishes on this point very plain 
to you, Miss Nelson ? ” 

Miss Nelson rose from her seat. 

“Certainly, my dear sir; most certainly,” she 
said ; “ and I — I agree with you. I more 
than agree with you. Susan is not a companion 
for Ermengarde. I have been careful about 
your wishes, Mr. Wilton I respect them, 
and my own fully coincide with them. I 
only — I only gave Ermengarde permission to 
go to Susan for five minutes yesterday because 
the child was feverish and badly hurt after her 
accident.” 

“ Her accident ! Yes, poor little girl, I have 
heard of that ; but I was not alluding to yes- 
terday, nor to anything that occurred then. 
Please sit down again. Miss Nelson; I see you 
are not to blame. Ermengarde, come here. 
Who were you walking with the day before, 
yesterday, between eleven and twelve o’clock, 
in the Nightingale Grove ? ” 

Ermengarde’s face turned first white and 
then crimson. Her eyes sought the ground. 
She bit her lips and clasped her hands ner- 
vously. 

“ Answer me at once,” said Mr. Wilton, in his 
sternest voice. 


AFTER THE BIRTHDAY. 


159 


The little girl made an effort to speak. Sud- 
denly she did a thing which astonished both her 
father and the governess. She flew to Miss 
Nelson’s side, and clasped her arms round 
her neck. 

“ Do tell him not to be angry with me ! I’m 
so awfully miserable,” she sobbed. 

“ Tell your kind father the truth, my dear. 
Speak up ; be brave,” whispered the governess 
back, touched in spite of herself by any token of 
softness from Ermie. 

Ermengarde gulped down her sobs. She 
raised her head, and spoke with a violent effort. 

“ I was with Susan Collins in the Nightingale 
Grove,” she said. 

“ Contrary to my express command ? ” queried 
Mr. Wilton. 

‘‘ Yes, father.” 

“Is this the only time you have held for- 
bidden intercourse with this little girl, Ermen. 
garde ? ” 

“ No, father. I saw her once or twice before.” 

“ Since I told you not ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Did Miss Nelson ever know of this ? ” 

“ No, she never knew.” 

“ Don’t you think you are very naughty 
and disobedient; that you have acted disgrace- 
fully ? ” 


160 THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 

The sulky look came over Ermeugarde’s 
face. 

There is no harm in Susy,” she said. 

Mr. Wilton stamped his foot. 

“ That is not the point,” he said. “ Is there no 
harm in you ? can you disobey me with impunity, 
and cast your father’s sternest commands to nought ? 
Errnengarde, I am stung by this. You have hurt 
me deeply.” 

Again Errnengarde saw Basil in her father’s 
face. She was frightened and tired, and burst 
out sobbing afresh. 

I won’t go with Susy any more,” she said. 
“ And I — I’m sorry — I’m really sorry.” 

Miss Nelson put her hand affectionately on her 
pupil’s shoulder. 

I need not say, sir,” she said, turning to Mr. 
Wilton, how shocked I am at all this, and at — 
at Ermengarde’s willful disobedience ; but,” here 
she paused, and pressed her hand a little firmer 
upon the weeping girl’s shoulder, if it is any 
use, and because I was their mother’s friend, I, 
too, would like to add my promise to Ermen- 
garde’s, and assure you that this shall never occur 
again.” 

Mr. Wilton glanced round impatiently at the 
clock. 

Thank you, Miss Nelson,” he said. I 
believe you, of course ; and I am sure that you 


AFTER THE BIRTHDAY. 


161 


will now Lave your eyes opened, and will prob- 
ably take steps to insure my desires being 
carried into eliect. As to Ermengarde, I will 
believe her promises wben sbe has proved them 
to be worth anything. She is the first Wilton 
I ever heard of who stooped to deceit. In 
the meantime I feel it is my duty to punish 
you, Ermengarde. This morning I had a letter 
from the Eussells — Lily Russell’s father and 
mother. They have asked me to come to them 
for a week, and to bring two of you with me. 
I intended to take you and Basil. Now I shall 
take Marjorie and Basil. Perhaps, when you 
are having a dull time at home, you will reflect 
that it is not always worth while to disobey 
your father. You can go back to your lessons 
now.” 


CHAPTER XIIL 
basil’s opinion. 

T half-past eleven that day, Ermen- 
garde found Basil waiting for her in 
the shrubbery. He was walking up 
and down, whistling to himself, and 
now and then turning round to say a pleasant 
word to a small white kitten who sat on 
his shoulder and purred. Basil was devoted 
to animals, and this kitten was a special 
favorite. 

As Ermengarde advanced slowly through the 
trees to meet her brother, she saw this little 
scene, and a very bitter feeling came over her. 

“He can be kind to everyone but me,” she 
thought. “ Even a stupid tiresome little cat can 
win kind glances from him. But I’m not going 
to let him see that I care. If he expects per- 
fection in me, the sooner he is undeceived the 
better. And as for me, I suppose I can do 
without his affection, if he won’t give it.” 

Busy with these thoughts, Ermie’s face wore 
its most stubborn expression as she approached 
her brother. The moment Basil saw her, he 
162 




basil’s opinion. 


163 


whisked the kitten off his shoulder, and came 
np to her side. 

I have thought it all out, Ermengarde,” he 
said, ‘‘and I have made up my mind what to 
do.” 

Ermengarde did not speak. She raised her 
eyes to Basil’s face. There was entreaty in 
them, but he would not fully meet her glance. 

“ There is no use in my going over the thing 
with you,” continued Basil. “ If you could do it, 
no words of mine could make you see your con- 
duct in its true light. Besides, I am not the one 
to preach to you. I am only a year older, and, 
as you reminded me last night, I have no sort of 
authority over you.” 

“Forget what I said last night!” pleaded 
Ermengarde. 

“ No, that is just the point. I can’t forget — 
I shall never forget. The old relations between 
us are over, and as far as I am concerned it is 
impossible to restore them.” 

“ Oh, Basil, you kill me when you speak so 
unkindly.” 

Ermengarde covered her face ; her slight form 
was shaken by sobs. 

“ I am sorry,” he said ; “ I cannot imagine why 
you value my regard, for we have quite different 
codes of honor ; we look at things from totally 
different standpoints. I don’t want to hold 


164 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


myself up, but I couldn’t act as you have done, 
Ermengarde.” 

Oh, Basil, if you only would be merciful.” 

Basil felt a growing sense of irritation. 

“ Will you stop crying, and listen to me ? ” he 
said. 

Ermengarde managed, with a great effort, to 
raise her tearstained face. 

“You imagine that I have no feeling for you,” 
continued Basil. “ You are mistaken ; I have. 
I used to put you on a pedestal. Of course you 
have* come down from that, but still I don’t 
forget that you are my sister, and as far as 
possible I intend to shield you. The discovery 
that I made last night shall not pass my lips. 
Miss Nelson must certainly get back the broken 
miniature of her little sister, but *I am not going 
to tell her how it came into my possession. 
That’s all — I’ll shield you. You can go 
now.” 

Ermengarde w^ould have pleaded still :■ further, 
but Basil at that moment heard some one calling 
him, and ran off, uttering boyish shouts as he 
did so. 

“ He doesn’t care a bit,” muttered Ermie. 
She turned and walked back to the house. 

For a time she felt stunned and sore ; life 
scarcely seemed worth living out of the sunshine 
of Basil’s favor. But after a time less worthy 


basil’s opinion. 


165 


thoughts took possession of her, and she felt a 
sense of relief that the adventure of last night 
would never be known. 

Marjorie came dancing down from the house 
to meet her sister. 

What do you think, Ermie ? I’m to go 
away to-morrow for a whole delicious week with 
father and Basil ! We are going to the Bussells’ 
— Basil has just told me. Isn’t it perfectly, 
perfectly splendid ! ” 

^‘I wish you wouldn’t bother, Maggie. You 
are so rough,” answered Ermengarde. “I came 
out here just to have quiet, and to get rid of my 
headache, and of course you come shouting to 
me.” 

Oh, I’m ever so sorry — I forgot about your 
headache,” answered Marjorie. “ It’s dreadful of 
me, I know.” 

She walked on gravely by Ermengarde’s 
side, the joy on her face a little damped. But 
presently, being a most irrepressible child, it 
bubbled over again. 

“ I wouldn’t be so awfully, awfully glad, only 
you have been at the Bussells’, Ermie. You 
spent a fortnight with them after Christmas, 
and Lily always promised that she’d have me 
asked next. I can’t help being delighted about 
it,” continued Marjorie, for I do so love Lily.” 
<^You little minx! Aud I suppose you 


166 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


imagine that a big girl like Lilias Russell cares 
for you ! Why, she’s fifteen, and ever so 
tall.” 

‘^But she said she was very fond of me,” 
answered Marjorie. 

“ Oh, she mid it ! And you believed it, 
of course ! Have you no observation of 
character ? Can’t you see, unless you’re as 
blind as a bat, that Lilias Russell is one of 
those polite sort of people who always must 
say pleasant things just for the sake of 
making themselves agreeable? Well, my dear, 
go and worship her, you have got a chance 
now for a week; only for goodness’ sake don’t 
worry me any more about it.” 

Marjorie ran off in her stolid little way. 
Ermengarde watched her as her sturdy figure 
disappeared from view. 

Ridiculous child ! ” she said to herself, “ and 
so plain. I can’t make out why people make 
such a fuss about her. She’s always held up 
to me as a sort of model. How I detest 
models, particularly the Maggie kind ! Now 
I know exactly what will happen. She’ll go 
to Glendower with father and Basil, and won’t 
she gush just! I know how she’ll pet Lilias 
Russell, and how she’ll paw her. And Lilias 
is just that weak sort of girl, with all her grace 
and prettiness, to be taken in by that sort of 


basil’s opinion. 


167 


tLing. Lilias fancies that she has taken quite a 
liking for Maggie — as if she could make a friend 
of her ! Why, Maggie’s a baby, and a very con- 
ceited, troublesome one too ” 

It was now time for Ermengarde to go in. She 
pleaded a headache, and so escaped doing any 
more lessons that day, and in the afternoon she 
managed to make the hours pass agreeably over 
the “Heir of Redclyffe,” which she was reading 
for the first time, and so did not miss Basil’s at- 
tention and companionship as much as she would 
otherwise have done. 

All the rest of the children and Miss Nelson 
were busy and interested in preparing Marjorie 
for her visit to Glendower. Basil had gone out 
fishing with his father ; Eric had coaxed to be 
allowed to go with the under-gamekeeper to see 
the young pheasants. The house was very still, 
and Ermie had the pleasant old schoolroom to 
herself. She read eageiiy ; in spite of herself — 
perhaps unknown to herself — she was anxious to 
drown reflection. 

It was late in the evening of that same day that 
Miss Nelson answered a knock which came to her 
sitting-room door, and was surprised to see Basil 
pop in his dark head. 

“ Oh, you’re alone ; that’s right,” he said. 
“ May I come in for a minute ? ” 

His manner was a little nervous and hurried, 


168 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


in perfect contrast to his usual open, frank sort of 
way. 

“ I’ve brought you this back,” he said, going up 
to Miss Nelson. I’m awfully sorry about it, and 
the worst of it is I can’t give any explanation. 
It’s disgracefully broken and injured, but I 
thought you would rather have it back as it is, 
than never to see it again.” 

Miss Nelson turned very white while Basil was 
speaking. An eager, longing, hopeful look grew 
and grew in her eyes. She stretched out her 
hands ; they trembled. 

“ My’miniature ! ” she exclaimed. My picture 
once again. Oh, Basil, thank God ! Oh, I have 
missed it ! ” 

“ Here it is,” said Basil. He had wrapped the 
poor little injured picture up in some white tissue- 
paper, and tied the parcel together with a bit of 
ribbon. He hoped Miss Nelson would say some- 
thing before she opened it. 

Here it is — it isn’t a bit the same,” he said. 

She scarcely heard him. She began feverishly 
to pull the ribbon away. 

“I wouldn’t look at it just for a minute,” 
began Basil. He had scarcely spoken, before 
there came a knock at the door. A firm voice 
said, May I come in ? ” and Miss Wilton, who 
had returned from London about an hour before, 
entered the room. She came in just in time to 


basil’s opinion. 


169 


see Miss Nelson remove the tissue-paper from 
the broken face of the miniature. The poor 
governess uttered a piercing cry, sank down on 
her knees by the center table, and covered her 
thin face with her hands. 

^^What is it, Basil? What is the matter?” 
asked Miss Wilton in astonishment. “I come 
in to find high heroics going on. What is the 
matter?” 

Basil did not say a word. Miss Nelson 
suddenly raised her pale face. She rose to her 
feet. Not high heroics,” she said, but deep 
grief ; I had a memento of the past — a young 
and happy past. I treasured it. It was stolen 
from me about ten days ago. I don’t know 
by whom. I don’t know why it was stolen. 
Now it has been returned — like this.” 

Miss AVilton took the broken ivory in her 
hand. 

“Dear, dear,” she said. “How disgracefully 
this miniature has been cracked and distorted. 
A child’s face, I see, painted in a weak, washed- 
out style, and glass and ivory are both broken, 
and frame bent. This miniature must have 
been subjected to very rough usage. The 
miniature is yours. Miss Nelson ? ” 

“Yes. It is a likeness of my — my sistei*. 
Give it back to me, please. Miss Wilton.” 

“ And you say it was stolen from you ? ” 


170 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Yes. It always hung over that mantelpiece. 
It was taken away the day after the boys came 
home from school.” 

Miss Wilton stood quite still for a moment; 
she was a very downright, practical sort of 
person. “Extraordinary as my question must 
seem, Basil,” she said, turning suddenly to her 
nephew, “ I am forced to ask it, as you appear 
to be mixed up in the affair. Did you take the 
miniature ? ” 

“ I ? Certainly not,” said Basil, coloring 
high. 

“ But you know something about it ? ” 

“Yes; I know something about it.” 

“ Who took it aAvay ? ” 

“ I am not at liberty to tell you. Aunt 
Elizabeth.” 

Miss Nelson gazed anxiously into Basil’s face. 
She had put the broken bits of ivory on the 
table. Now she tenderly laid the soft tissue- 
paper over them. 

“You have brought me back the miniature, 
Basil,” she said. 

“ I have,” said Basil bluntly, “ and that’s 
about all. I don’t know how it was broken, 
and what else I know I am not going to tell. 
I’m awfully sorry about the whole thing, but 
I thought you would rather have the miniature 
back as it is, than not get it at all, Miss Nelson.” 


basil’s opinion. 


171 


“ That is true,” said Miss Nelson. 

Basil was turning to leave the room, but Miss 
Wilton suddenly stepped before him to the door, 
and shut it. 

You shan’t leave, sir, until you tell every- 
thing ! ” she said. “ I know what mischievous 
creatures boys are. You took that miniature 
away out of wanton mischief ; you fiddled with 
it, and broke it, and now you are afraid to 
confess. But I’ll have no funking the truth. 
Tell what you have done, this minute, you bad 
boy ! ” 

I found the miniature, and I’ve returned it to 
Miss Nelson,” replied Basil, in a quiet, still voice, 
which kept under all the anger which made his 
dark eyes glow. 

‘‘Yes, and you stole it in the first instance, and 
then broke it. Out with the truth; no half- 
measures with me,” retorted Miss Wilton. 

• Basil laughed harshly. 

“ You’re mistaken. Aunt Elizabeth ; I neither 
stole the miniature nor broke it.” 

“ I am sure Basil is speaking the truth,” said 
Miss Nelson. 

“ And I am sure of the reverse,” retorted Miss 
Wilton. “ There is guilt in his face, in his man- 
ner. Naughty, defiant boy, you shall tell me 
what you know ! ” 

“I am not naughty or defiant. Aunt Eliza- 


172 


THE CHILDEEH OE WILTOH CHASE. 


beth, and I don’t wish to be rude to you 
or anyone. I have told all I can about the 
miniature. May I go now please, Miss Nel. 
son ? ” 

Higlity-tigbty ! ” exclaimed Miss Wilton ; 
‘‘this is insubordination with a vengeance. I 
shall call my brother here. Basil, I insist upon 
your remaining where you are until your father 
arrives.” 

Miss Wilton immediately left the room. Basil 
went and stood by the window. The blinds 
were up, and there was moonlight outside. He 
could see the path across which Ermengarde had 
hurried the night before. 

Miss Nelson came suddenly up, and touched 
the boy’s arm. 

“ Basil,” she said, “ I wish to tell you that I 
fully believe in you.” 

“ Oh, thank you very much,” he answered, 
glancing at her for an instant, and then gazing 
once more out of the window. 

“ But,” continued the governess, “ I wish you 
would trust me with the whole truth.” 

He shook his head. At this moment Mr. 
Wilton and his sister came in together. 

“ These are the circumstances, Eoderick,” 
began Miss Wilton at once. “ Pray, Miss 
Nelson, allow me to speak. Here is the 
miniature, broken in two, disgracefully injured. 


basil’s opinion. 


173 


Here, look at it — a deceased relative, I believe, 
of Miss Nelson’s — stolen out of her room ten 
days ago. Basil returns it this evening broken, 
says he does not know how it was broken, 
and declines to tell how it got into his 
possession.” 

Mr. Wilfcon took the pieces of ivory into his 
hand, looked at the poor little distorted face, put 
the pieces back on the table, and turned to his 
son. 

Is your Aunt Elizabeth’s version of this affair 
correct, Basil ? ” he inquired. 

Yes, father,” replied Basil. “It is perfectly 
correct. I found the broken miniature, and I have 
just returned it.” 

“ How did you find it ? ” 

“ I can’t say, sir.” 

“ You mean you won’t say ? ” 

“ Very well, father; I won’t say.” 

Mr. Wilton colored. Miss Wilton gave a 
triumphant “ Humph ! ” and a muttered “ I told 
you so.” Miss Nelson nervously clasped and un- 
clasped her thin hands. 

“ Basil,” said his father after a pause, “ you are 
a very good lad, and I have every trust in you. 
You have a reason for boldly defying your 
father’s wishes. But when I, who am your 
father, and know a great deal better than you do 
what is right and wrong in this matter, desire you 


174 


THE CHILDREN OE WiLTOH CHASE. 


once again to tell me all you know, you will, of 
course, instantly obey me.” 

“ I am deeply and truly sorry, father, but I 
can’t obey you.” 

T’cli ! no more of this ! go to my study this 
moment, and wait there till I come to 
you.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


I SERVE. 

AGGIE,” said lier governess, early the 
next morning, Maggie, dear, wake np 
at once.” 

Marjorie opened her sleepy gray eyes 
with a start, sprang up in bed, and began to rub 
them violently. 

“ Oh, Miss Nelson, is that you ? What is the 
matter ? ” 

“ I want you to get up, and not to wake 
Ermengarde. Dress as quickly as possible, and 
then come to me to my room.” 

What can be the matter ? Isn’t it awfully 
early ? Aren’t we going to Glendower to-day ? ” 

^^It is half-past six. Yes, you are going to 
Glendower by and by. Now dress, and come to 
me at once.” 

Miss Nelson left the room. Marjorie tumbled 
into her clothes in a most untidy manner, and 
joined her governess, looking what she was, very 
unkempt and tumbled. 

“ I have been quick, haven’t I, Miss Nelson ? ” 

“Yes, dear. Come over, my love, and sit by 

175 



176 THU CHILBREH OF WILTOX CHASE. 

me on tlie sofa. Maggie, my dear, do you know 
that Basil is in trouble ? ” 

Basil ! ” exclaimed Marjorie. “ How ? Has 
he hurt himself ? ” 

He brought me back my miniature last night, 
Maggie, broken — injured ; don’t start so, my dear, 
dear child. He would not tell how it was broken, 
nor how it got into his possession, and your 
Aunt Elizabeth happened most unfortunately to 
come into the room at the moment, and she 
made a great fuss, and fetched your father ; and 
the end of it is that they both believe Basil to 
have done something very wrong — in short, 
that he had something to say to the dis- 
appearance of the miniature, and he — he is in 
disgrace.” 

“ Oh, Miss Nelson, how can father and Aunt 
Elizabeth be so cruel and unjust ? ” 

Hush, dear ! whatever your father does, you 
must not speak of him so.” 

But don’t they both hnow him better ? Did 
he ever in all his life do anything dishonorable or 
mean ? ” 

“ Maggie, I fully believe in him.” 

Of course you do, dear darling Miss Nelson.” 

I wish,” continued Miss Nelson, that we 
could really find out who took the miniature.” 

Miss Nelson was looking at Marjorie while 
she spoke, and now she was surprised to see 


I SERVE. 


177 


a wave of crimson slowly dye the child’s cheeks, 
and cover her brow. 

Why do yon look like that, Maggie ? ” asked 
the governess. Do you suspect anything ? ” 

Maggie was silent for a moment. Then she 
looked up in her frank way. 

I don’t really know anything,” she said. 

• But you have a suspicion.” 

“ I’m not even sure that I have.” 

Maggie dear, I would far rather never 
recover the miniature than get Basil into 
trouble. My conviction is that he is concealing 
some knowledge which has come to him for the 
sake of another. He is making a mistake, of 
course, but his motives are good. If you can 
help him, Maggie, if you have any clew by 
which we can get at the real truth, use it, and 
quickly, dear child.” 

Marjorie put on that little important air 
which sometimes made her brothers and sisters 
call her goody-goody. 

It seems a pity that I should be going away 
to-day,” she said. 

“ Oh, you must not be disappointed, Maggie,” 
said her governess. “You don’t often get a 
treat, and you have been so looking forward to 
spending a few days with Lilias Bussell.” 

“ I do love Lily,” replied Marjorie. “ Only 
Ermengarde said ” then she stopped. 


178 THE CHtLHREH OE WILTOH CHASE. 

“ What is it, dear ? ” 

I don’t think I’ll tell, Miss Nelson, please. 
I’m afraid, when Ermie said it, she was feeling 
aw^fully disappointed. I’ll try to forget it. 
Now, Miss Nelson, what shall I do ? ” 

“ Put your wise little brains to work. Try to 
think how you can clear Basil from suspicion 
without doing anything shabby or underhand. 
I know your father is fearfully hurt with him. 
Much more hurt with him than with Ermen- 
garde, for he has always had such a very high 
opinion of Basil. Now run away, Maggie, dear, 
and do your best ; but remember I do not wish 
you to give up your visit. I called you early 
on purpose that you should have time to think 
matters over.” 

Miss Nelson kissed Marjorie, who went 
solemnly back to her own room. 

The sun was now streaming in through the 
closed blinds, and some of his rays fell across 
the white bed where Ermengarde lay. The 
little girl was still fast asleep ; all her long hair 
was tossed over her pillow, and one hand shaded 
her cheek. Ermengarde was a very pretty girl, 
and she looked lovely now in the innocent sweet 
sleep which visits even naughty children. 

Marjorie went and stood at the foot of the 
bed. 

Poor Ermie,” she said to herself, I don’t 


I SERVE. 


179 


want to think that she could be mean, and yet 
— and yet — she was in Miss Nelson’s room the 
day the miniature was stolen, and she did seem 
in a desperate state of trouble that time when 
she asked me to make an excuse for her to go 
back to the house. And then what funny 
words Susy did use that day in the cottage, 
although she explained them all away after- 
ward. Dear, dear, dear, it’s horrid to think 
that Ermie could do anything wrong. And she 
looks so sweet in her sleep. I wish Miss Nelson 
hadn’t woke me, and told me to be a sort of 
spy. -But oh, poor Basil! I’d do anything in 
all the world — I’d even be mean, to help Basil.” 

Marjorie sat down on her own little bed, 
•which was opposite to Ermen garde’s. The 
motto which her mother had given her long ago, 
the old sacred and time-honored motto, I 
serve,” floated back to her mind. 

“ It will be horrid if I have to give up going 
to Glendower,” she whispered under her breath. 

I am unlucky about treats, and I do love Lily. 
Still, I remember what mother said, ^ When 
you are a servant to others, you are God’s 
servant, Marjorie.’ Mother died a week after- 
ward. Oh dear, oh dear, I can’t forget her 
words ; but I should dearly like to go to 
Glendower all the same.” 

As Marjorie sat on her little bed, she was 


180 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


kicking ker feet backward and forward, and 
not being a particularly gentle little mortal, 
she knocked over a box, wbick effectually 
wakened Ermengarde. 

What are you doing there ? ” asked the elder 
sister. “ What in the world are you dressed for, 
Maggie ? It surely is not seven o’clock yet ? ” 

“ Yes, it is ; it’s a quarter-past seven,” replied 
Marjorie. 

Oh, I suppose you are so excited about your 
stupid old Glendower.” 

“ I’m thinking about it, but I’m not excited,” 
answered Marjorie a little sadly. 

‘^Well, for goodness’ sake don’t put on that 
resigned, pious, martyr sort of air. You are 
going to have your treat, and take it cheerfully. 
You know you are dying to go, and your heart 
is going pit-a-pat like anything.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t be so cross with me, 
Ermie.” 

“ Oh, of course. I’m always cross ; no one 
ever has a good word for me. Now, Maggie, 
don’t begin to argue the point. I wish to good- 
ness you would stay in bed until it is your 
proper time to rise, and not wake me up before 
it is necessary. I might have had a quarter of 
an hour’s more sleep if it had not been for 
you.” 

“I could not help myself this morning,” 


I SERVE. 


181 


answered Marjorie. “Miss Nelson came and 
woke me soon after six o’clock.” 

“ Miss Nelson ? ” Ermengarde was suddenly 
aroused to interest. “Whatever for?” 

“ Oh, Ermie, you must hear about it — poor 
Basil.” 

Ermengarde half sat up in bed. 

“ I wish you’d speak right out, Maggie. 
Has Basil hurt himself? Is he ill? What is 
wrong ? ” 

“ Basil isn’t ill in body, Ermie, only — oh, it’s 
so dreadful. He found the miniature.” 

Ermengarde flung herself back again on her 
bed. 

“ How sick I am of that stupid miniature ! ” she 
muttered. 

“Well, Ermie, you want to hear the story 
about it, don’t you ? Basil found it, and it had 
got cracked across, and the poor little sister, she 
does squint so fearfully now, and she ” 

“ Oh, never mind about that,” retorted Ermen- 
garde. With all her care there was a sort of 
breathless earnestness in her voice. “ What did 
Basil do 1 ” 

“He crave the miniature back to Miss Nelson, 

O ' 

and of course Miss Nelson was awfully cut up 
about its being broken, and just at the minute 
who should come in but Aunt Elizabeth ! and 
she got into a rage, and she asked Basil how he 


182 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


had got the miniature, and how it was broken, 
and Basil refused to tell, and there was such a 
fuss, and father was sent for, and father asked 
Basil to tell, and Basil refused even to tell 
father, and father took Basil away to his study, 
and Miss Nelson doesn’t know Avhat happened 
there, only that dear darling Basil is in dis- 
grace.” 

“ Of course he didn’t do it,” murmured Ermen- 
garde. 

“ Do it, Ermie ! Basil wouldn’t hurt a fly, 
let alone do such a shabby, shabby, cruel, mean 
thimg as to take away Miss Nelson’s dear pic- 
ture. O Ermie, I thought you at least loved 
Basil more than anybody, more even than I 
love him.” 

Yes, I do,” said Ermengarde ; “ I love him 
more than anybody else in the world. Now 
Maggie, if you don’t mind leaving the room, as 
you happen to be dressed. I’ll get up.” 

^^Yes,” answered Marjorie, ^‘I’ll go away at 
once.” She trotted out of the room. 

“ I must make up my mind to do it,” she 
said to herself when she reached the landing. 
‘^Perhaps Ermie will believe then that I love 
her a little bit. There’s no help for it at all. 
It’s just a plain case of horrid duty, and there’s 
no getting out of it.” 

Marjorie ran off in the direction of her 


I SERVE. 


183 


father’s room. She had to push aside the oak 
doors, aud she had to go softly, for Aunt 
Elizabeth was now at home, and the part of 
the house behind the oak doors was no longer 
the children’s property. Marjorie ran softly 
down the long corridor, and when she reached 
her father’s door, she put her ear against the 
keyhole. 

“ I mustn’t go in until he is up,” she said to 
herself. I must wait until I hear a little 
noise. Perhaps when he’s shaving he’ll have 
time to listen to me.” 

Marjorie’s little heart was now beating fast 
enough, for she was dreadfully afraid that Aunt 
Elizabeth would come out of the bedroom at 
the other side of the passage, and order her 
back to the schoolroom regions. 

“Oh, I do hope father won’t be dreadfully 
lazy this morning,” she murmured. At last 
welcome sounds from within reached her ears. 
Mr. Wilton had evidently retired into his bath- 
room. Presently steps were distinctly audible 
in the dressing-room; now Marjorie could ven- 
ture softly to turn the handle of the great 
bedroom door, it yielded to her pressure, and 
she somewhat timidly entered. Mr. Wilton was 
in his dressing-room, the door of which was 
ajar, and Marjorie had come some distance into 
the outer room before he heard her. 


184 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


“Who is there ? ” he asked suddenly. 

“Please, father, it’s me; it’s Maggie.” 

“ Come along in, and say good-morning, 
Maggie. I hope you are getting all your 
possessions together for our visit to Glendower. 
I shall take the twelve o’clock train. We’ll 
arrive at four.” 

“ Yes, father.” Marjorie was now standing by 
her father’s dressing-table. He was shaving, 
and in consequence his sentences were a little 
jerky. _ _ _ 

“ What a quiet Maggie,” he said suddenly, 
looking down at her. “You’re delighted to 
come, aren’t you, little one ? ” 

“ I was — I loved it. Please, father, I don’t 
want to go now.” 

“You don’t want to go?” Mr. Wilton laid 
down his razor and looked almost severely 
into Marjorie’s honest but now clouded face. 
“ You don’t want to go ? Tut ! ” he repeated. 
“Don’t talk nonsense — you know you are all 
agog to be off ! ” 

“So I was, but I’m not now. I’ve changed 
my mind. That’s why I’ve come in here, and 
why I’m bothering you while you are shaving.” 

“You don’t bother me, Maggie; you’re a 
good little tot. But about going to Glendower, 
it’s all settled. You’re to come, so run away 
and get Hudson to put up your finery.” 



‘Please father, I don’t want to go now.’ 


N 






I SERVE. 


185 


Father, I want you to let Ermie go instead 
of me.” 

^^No, that I won’t; she has been a very dis- 
obedient girl. Kun away, now, Maggie ; it’s all 
settled that you are to go.” 

But Ermie was asked in the first instance ? ” 
Yes, child, yes ; but I ve explained matters to 
Lady Bussell.” 

And Lilias is Ermie’s friend.” 

“ What a little pleader you are, Maggie. 
Ermie should be a good girl, and then slie’d have 
the treats.” 

“ Father, couldn’t you punish me instead of 
her ? That is sometimes done, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Sometimes, Maggie, But I think Ermengarde 
would be all the better for going through the 
punishment she richly merits.” 

Truly, father, I don’t think so, and I know 
Ermie so well. I know, father, she’s awfully 
unhappy, and she’s getting so cross and hard, 
and perhaps this would soften her. I can’t 
make out what’s up with her, but I think this 
might soften her. Do try it, father; do, please, 
father.” 

“ Come and sit by me for a moment on this 
sofa, Maggie. I see you’re frightfully in 
earnest, and you’re a dear good child. Every- 
one speaks well of you, Maggie, so I’m bound 
in honor to hear you out. You’ll tell me 


186 


THE CHILDKEN OF WILTON CHASE. 


the whole truth, whatever it is, won’t you, 
Maggie ? ” 

Oh, won’t I just ! What a dear, darling 
father you are ! Nearly as nice as the birthday 
father ! ” 

Nearly j puss? Not quite, eh? Well, you 
suit me uncommonly well, and it is a comfort to 
have an honest outspoken child. What with 
Ermengarde’s disobedience, and Basil’s disgraceful 
want of openness, I scarcely know what to do at 
times.” 

Father, Basil has done nothing wrong.” 

Oh, you take his part, eh ? You wouldn’t, 
if you had seen that obstinate young dog last 
night. I see you know all about it, and I may 
as well tell you, Maggie, that I am deeply dis- 
pleased with Basil. I am much more angry with 
him than I am with Ermengarde, for somehow 
or other I measured him by his mother’s stand- 
ard, and she often said that Basil couldn’t be 
underhand.” 

Mother was right,” said Marjorie “ he 
couldn’t.” 

“My dear Maggie, events have proved the 
reverse. But now we won’t discuss this matter. 
Here, pop under my arm ; let’s have a cozy five 
minutes while I listen to all your wonderful 
reasons for not going to Glendower.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


LILIAS. 

RMENGARDE had just finished her 
morning toilet when the bedroom 
door was banged violently open. It 
shut with a loud report and Mar- 
jorie, breathless and triumphant, appeared before 
her. 

What will you give for some good news ? ” she 
said, dancing excitedly up and down. “ There, 
you shall give three guesses. Something so good^ 
so jolly. You will be delighted. Now guess ! 
AVhat’s going to happen ? ” 

Ermengarde was in one of her worst humors. 
Ev^ery thing had gone wrong with her. There was 
a load of oppression and care on her heart, and 
now she was seriously uneasy about Basil. She 
was not brave enough to exonerate him by con- 
fessing her own sins, but it was torture to her to . 
think that he should be unjustly suspected of any- 
thing mean and dishonorable. 

Do guess ! It’s something so delightful. You 
toill be pleased,” repeated Marjorie, continuing to 
dance wildly up and down. 

187 



188 


THE CHILDREN OE WILTON CHASE. 


I do wish, Maggie, you’d understand that 
other people are not in the frantic state of bliss 
you are in. Your manners lately are too intoler- 
able. I shall ask father if I cannot have a 
separate bedroom, for I will not have you bang- 
ing in and out of the room in the horrid tom- 
boy way you have. I don’t want to hear your 
good news. It’s nothing that can concern me, 
that I am sure.” 

“ Oh, indeed, truly it concerns you.” 

I don’t want to hear it. I know you and your 
raptures. It will be a perfect comfort when 
you are at Glendower, and I can have a little 
peace ! ” 

That’s just it ! I’m not going to Glen- 
dower.” 

Oh ! You have got into a scrape too? Well, 
I must say I think it’s time your righteous pride 
should have a fall. I have no patience with little 
girls who are always in everyone’s good books, 
and who are set up as patterns. But what’s the 
matter ? You seem uncommonly delighted at 
losing your hne treat.” 

I w^ould be, if you’d speak ever so little kindly 
to me, Ermie. I really am not the horrid girl 
you think.” 

“ I don’t think anything about you, child.” 

^^Well, you shouldn’t say things about me. 
You shouldn’t say what you don’t think.” 


LILIAS. 


189 


“ Oh, for goodness' sake, don’t begin to moral- 
ize ! Was that the. breakfast gong ? ” 

“Yes. And you’d better be quick eating up 
your breakfast, Ermie, for you won’t have too 
much time.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“Well, you’ll have to tell Hudson about your 
dresses and things. You are going to Glen- 
dower ! ” 

The dull look left Ermengarde’s eyes. They 
began to sparkle. She stood quite still for a 
moment. Then she turned slowly round and 
faced her little sister. All Marjorie’s soul was 
shining out of her face at this moment. 

“ Do you mean this, Maggie ? ” asked Ermen- 
garde. 

“ Of course I mean it. Aren’t you glad ? 
Aren’t you delighted % ” 

“But how has it been managed? Father said 
he’d punish me for talking to Susan Collins, 
and he said you were to go in my stead.” 

“Well, now, you are to go instead of me. 
It’s Just turned round. Aren’t you very 
glad ? ” 

“Well, I did want to see Lilias. She’s more 
the sort of friend for me than for you; isn’t 
she, Maggie ? ” 

“I suppose so,” said Marjorie, suppressing a 
quick sigh. 


190 


THE CHILDREN" OF WILTON" CHASE. 


^^And of course Lady Russell wanted me, 
not you.” 

“Yes, I told father I was sure she’d like 
you best.” 

“ Oh, you spoke to father about it ? ” 

“ Why, of course, Ermie.” 

“ Then you haven’t got into disgrace yourself ? ” 

“^^o, it wasn’t that — it wasn’t because I was 

in ” Marjorie turned her head away, and 

tears welled up slowly into her big wide-open 
gray eyes. 

“ You did it for me, then ? ” said Ermengarde. 
“ You gave up your own pleasure for me ? I 
didn’t see it until this moment ; I didn’t really ! 
or I wouldn’t have been so cross. Kiss me, 
Maggie. I’m awfully obliged. But how did 
you come round father ? ” 

“ Oh, never mind now ; it’s done, and father’s 
quite satisfied. He expects you to go with 
him, and he told me to tell you to be sure to 
be ready in good time, as he cannot miss the 
midday train.” 

“No fear. I’ll be ready. I’m only too glad 
to get away from the Chase Just now. Is that 
Hudson I see in the passage? Run to her, 
Maggie, I must speak to her about my white 
chiffon dinner dress.” 

Marjorie darted away; her face was looking 
perfectly contented again. She had not ex- 


LILIAS. 


191 


pected any more thanks from Ermengarde, and 
it was her nature when she did give, to give 
lavishly. Now she was all eagerness to assist 
in the necessary preparations for Ermie’s sudden 
visit, and was much more inclined to make 
large proffers of help than was the somewhat 
offended Hudson. 

I had your clothes all ready. Miss Marjorie, 
and I have not got everything Miss Ermengarde 
requires at a moment’s notice.” 

‘^Oh, but you will do your very best for 
Ermie, Hudson, and she can have all my clean 
handkerchiefs and sashes, and my Maltese gold 
cross, with the little chain. You will help to 
send her off nice, won’t you, Hudson ? ” 

I’ll do anything for your sake, my dear 
little lady,” said the maid. 

And Marjoiie, well satisfied, trotted down to 
breakfast in Ermengarde’s wake. 

The usual party were assembled in the 
schoolroom, and Ermengarde once more found 
herself by Basil’s side. He just nodded to her 
when she came in, and then bent his head over 
‘‘Westward Ho!” which he was reading as he 
ate his breakfast. 

“ I wonder if he’s coming with me, and if 
I’m to be treated to these sort of manners all 
the time,” thought Ermengarde. “What will 
Lilias think ? ” 


192 


THE CHILDREN OE WILTON CHASE. 


But just tlien Marjorie’s voice arrested atten- 
tion. “ Don’t poke me so, Eric it isn’t me — 
it’s Ermie ; she’s going.” 

Oh, galopshious ! And you’ll stay at the 
Chase ! I was looking forward to a black time. 
You and Basil away, and Miss Sulky-face for 
my sole companion.” 

“ Do hush, Eric ; you say such horrid unkind 
things. I won’t talk to you or be a bit 
nice.” 

Eric continued to chatter in a loud, aggravat- 
ing whisper. His buzzing words were distinctly 
audible at the other end of the long table. 
Ermengarde heard herself spoken of as Miss 
Sulky-face, but she was far too contented with 
the present state of affairs to mind Avhat such 
a very unimportant person as Eric said about 
her. Basil raised his head for a moment from 
his book. 

“ Are you going to Glendower instead of 
Maggie ? ” he asked, darting a quick glance 
at his sister. 

Her heart swelled with sudden pain at his 
tone. 

Yes,” she said. Her voice was humble, and 
almost deprecating. 

Maggie has given up her wishes, then ? ” 
am going instead of Maggie,” said Ermen- 
garde, her manner once more proud and defiant. 


LILIAS. 


193 


Basil resumed his reading of Westward Ho!” 
Miss Nelson called to him to say that his break- 
fast was getting cold. The moment she spoke, he 
shut up his book. 

“ I don’t wish to eat anything more, Miss 
Nelson,” he said. “ And I want to know if you 
will excuse me, and let me leave the table now. 
I wish to say a word to father before he leaves 
the study.” 

“ You can certainly go, Basil,” replied the 
governess. 

He went away at once. A moment later, 
Basil was standing in his father’s presence. 

Ho you expect me to go with you to-day to 
Glendower, father ? ” he asked. 

Mr. Wilton was reading an important letter. 
He looked up impatiently. 

“ Yes,” he said. “ You and Marjorie — I mean 
you and Ermengarde are to come.” 

“ But I have displeased you, and this is a — a 
pleasure trip.” 

Mr. Wilton threw down his letter. 

“ Look here, Basil,” he said, ^^you are too old ‘to 
be punished in the sort of way I punish Ermen- 
garde, or Marjorie, or Eric.” 

“ I am only a year older than Ermengarde.” 

Don’t contradict me, sir. I repeat, you are 
too old, and you are different. I have regarded 
you hitherto as a manly sort of fellow, and even 


194 


THE CHILDREN OE WILTON CHASE. 


after last night I cannot treat you as a child. 
Come to Glendower ; only understand that, until 
you explain yourself fully, you suffer from my 
disj)leasure.” 

“ If that is so, father ” — Basil's lips quivered, 
his dark eyes glowed with pain — “ if that is so, I 
would rather stay at Wilton Chase.” 

Then stay. Until you are once more the 
frank fellow I have always regarded you, your 
movements do not interest me.” 

“ I will stay at home then, father.” 

Very well.” 

Mr. Wilton opened another letter, and began to 
read it. Basil lingered for a moment, as if he 
hoped for another softer word ; then he turned on 
his heel and left the room. 

In due time Ermengarde and her father started 
on their journey. Ermengarde carried away 
with her every conceivable bit of finery which 
Marjorie could stow into her trunk, and Hudson, 
finding herself helpless to stem the tide of events, 
at last rose to the occasion, and did her best 
to send off her young lady suitably prepared for 
her visit. 

Ermengarde looked very pretty and graceful 
as she seated herself beside her father in the 
carriage, and although the children were con- 
spicuous by their absence, and there were no 
sorrowful looks to witness her exit, she did 


LILIAS. 


195 


not concern herself very much over such trivial 
matters. 

Marjorie’s farewell was all that was warm 
and affectionate, and as it was Mr. Wilton’s 
fashion to forgive absolutely when he did 
forgive, Ermengarde had a very comfortable 
journey. 

The travelers arrived in good time at 
Glendower, and Ermengarde really forgot all 
the worries, the miseries, the sins of the last 
few days, when Lilias Russell threw her arms 
round her neck, and warmly bade her welcome. 

Lilias was a very beautiful girl. She had 
that radiant sort of almost spiritual loveliness 
which is generally accompanied by a very 
sweet, noble, and upright nature. Her com- 
plexion was very fair, her eyes large, soft, and 
brown; her hair was the finest, palest gold. 
She was a slightly made girl, but she had no 
look of ill-health about her. On the contrary, 
her elastic young figure was full of strength 
and vigor. She was a great favorite with 
all her friends, for she was unselfish, loving, and 
straightforward. She was slow to think evil 
of people, and was generally affectionately 
rapturous over the girls and boys who came 
to visit her at Glendower. Although the only 
child of very wealthy parents, she Avas too 
simple-minded to be spoiled, She received lot^^ 


196 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


of flatteries, but tliey did her no barm, because 
she failed to see them. Her beautiful face 
was praised to her many times, but no one yet 
had seen a conscious or conceited expression 
cross it. 

“I’m delighted you have come, Ermie,” she 
said, “but I scarcely expected you, for mother 
had a letter from your father, who said he was 
obliged to bring Maggie instead.” 

Ermengarde colored. There is no saying 
what reply she would have made, but at 
that moment Mr. Wilton stepped forward and 
answered Lilias 's look of inquiry himself. 

“Maggie gave up her pleasure to Ermie,” 
he said. “ She is an unselfish child, and she 
saw how very much Ermie wished to spend 
a few days with you, Lilias.” 

“ How sweet of Maggie ! ” replied Lilias. “ I 
do think she is one of the very dearest little 
girls in the world. Of course I’m delighted 
to have you with me, Ermengarde; but I only 
wish your father had brought Maggie, too.” 

“And where is my special favorite, Basil?” 
asked Lady Bussell, who had been listening 
with an amused smile to the above con- 
versation. 

“ Basil is not in my good graces at present,” 
replied Mr. AVilton. “Pardon me. I make no 
complaints. He was free to come, but he 


LILIAS. 


197 


elected to stay at liome ; under the circumstances^ 
I think his choice was wise.” 

Lady E-ussell and Mr. Wilton walked slowly 
away together, and Lilias linked her hand 
affectionately through Ermengarde’s arm. 

If there is a mystery, you will tell me about 
it presently,” she said, and I am not going to 
worry you now. I am so pleased to have you with 
me, Ermie, and there are a whole lot of things I 
am going to consult you about. But first of all, 
just come to my grotto. I want you to see in 
what a pretty pattern I have arranged the shells. 
Here we are ; enter, fair and welcome guest ! 
Oh, you must stoop your tall head a little, Ermie. 
Pride must bend when it • enters a humble 
grotto like mine. Now then, look around 
you.” 

Ermengarde was feeling tired, hot, and thirsty. 
She had hoped to have been treated to nice 
grown-up tea in one of the drawing-rooms, and she 
felt just a little annoyed at being carried off at 
once to look at Lilias’s stupid shells, or to behold 
the most charming grotto that was ever built. 
Ermengarde had no love for natural history, and 
fond as she was of Lilias, she felt just a wee bit 
cross. 

But the moment she entered the grotto, the 
clouds fled like magic from her face. There 
were shells, of course, and sea-weeds, and a deep 


198 THE CHILDEEIS’ OF WILTON CHASE. 

pool whicli contained sea- anemones, and into 
wbicli a fountain continually dripped. But there 
was also tea on a charming little rustic table, and 
two rustic easy-chairs, and two egg-shell china 
cups and saucers, and a wee silver jug full of 
cream, and a dish of hot muffins, and a little 
basket full of grapes and peaches. 

Lilias watched her friend’s face. 

She wants her tea, poor Ermie does,” she 
whispered to herself ; “ I know Maggie would have 
rushed at the shells first of all, and she’d have 
asked me a thousand questions about my sea- 
anemones and my fountain. Still, it’s perfectly 
natural that Ermie should be thirsty and want 
her tea.” 

So the two little friends sat down, and had a 
very cozy and merry time together. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE BEAUTIFUL DRESS. 



SHAT evening, as Ermengarde was 
standing in her room, surveying 
with critical eyes the heaps of finery 
she had brought with her, Lilias 
knocked at her door. 

“ Come in,” said Ermengarde. 

Lilias had on a blue fiannel dressing-jacket, 
and her long, bright, golden hair was streaming 
down her back. 

“I’ve rushed in to tell you,” she exclaimed 
excitedly, “we are both to come down to dinner 
to-night. Two guests have disappointed mother. 
She has just had a telegram ; Colonel Vavasour 
is ill, and of course his wife can’t leave him, so. 
you and I are to fill the vacant places at table. 
I do hope you won’t mind, Ermie.” 

“ I ? ” said Ermengarde, her eyes sparkling. 
“ Oh, no ; I shan’t mind ; I like dining with grown 
people. I think it will be rather fun.” 

“It’s sweet of you to take it in that way,” 
said Lilias. “I had planned a lovely walk by 
the lake, and we might have got into the boat, 
199 


200 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


and brought in some water-lilies. Late dinner 
takes a long, long time, and it will be much 
too dark to go to the lake when it is over.” 

I don’t mind, really,” repeated Ermengarde. 
She did not want to * tell her friend that her 
worldly little soul infinitely preferred late dinner 
and a talk with some of the grown-up guests 
to a ramble with Lilias by the side of the lake. 

‘‘We can go to the lake another time, Lilias,” 
she said, “and it seems only right to oblige 
your mother now.” 

“Thank you for putting it in that way to 
me,” said Lilias. She went up to Ermengarde 
and kissed her. “ What have you got to 
wear ? ” she asked. “ I know mother would like 
such young girls as we are to be dressed very 
simply. I shall just put on a white muslin, 
and a white silk sash round my waist.” 

“ Oh, I have a white dress, too,” said Ermenr 
garde, in a careless tone. “I am sure I shall 
manage very well.” 

Her dark eyes grew brighter and brighter 
as she spoke. 

“I must not stay to chat with you, Ermie,” 
said Lilias, looking at her friend with admira- 
tion. “Mother is so afraid you will miss your 
maid, but you shall have as much of Petite’s 
time as ever I can possibly spare.” 

“ Who is Petite ? ” asked Ermeno:arde, 

o 


THE BEAUTIFUL DRESS. 


201 


Oh, she’s my dear little maid. We brought 
her over from France last year. She was never 
out anywhere before, and I’m so fond of her. 
Her name is Lucile Marat, but I call her Petite, 
because she is on a small scale, and so neat in 
every way. It was she unpacked your things. 
I’ll send her to you in a minute.” 

Lilias ran out of the room, and Ermengarde, 
closing the door, opened a long drawer at the 
bottom of the wardrobe, and taking out her 
white chiffon dress, viewed it with great com- 
placency. This dress had been given to Ermen- 
garde by Aunt Elizabeth ; she had brought it 
from Paris, intending to wear it at a county ball 
herself, but finding it too juvenile, she had handed 
it on to her niece. The local dressmaker had 
cut it down to fit Ermengarde, and ever since 
she possessed it, Ermie had sighed and longed 
for the occasion when she might don the lovely 
robe. 

The dress was in truth an exquisite one ; it 
was delicately spangled with what looked like 
dewdrops, and had a great deal of rich soft silk 
introduced here and there, but if it was too 
young for Aunt Elizabeth, it w^as a greal deal 
too old for Ermie. It’s voluminous and graceful 
pillows of white were not suited to her slim little 
figure. It was a grown girl’s dress, and Ermie 
was only a child. 


202 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Still the occasion, the longed-for, the sighed-for 
occasion, when she might dress herself in Aunt 
Elizabeth’s white chiffon^ had arrived. 

Ermie pulled the dress out of the drawer, 
shook out its folds, and regarded it with 
rapture. 

There came a modest knock at the room door, 
and Petite, got up in truly French fashion, 
entered. She was a rosy-cheeked, round-faced 
girl, with sparkling black eyes, and rolls of 
black hair, picturesquely arranged on the top of 
her head. 

hope she understands English,” thought 
Ermengarde. French is not my strong point, 
and I really must get her to dress my hair in some 
grown-up fashion to-night.” 

Petite soon, however, relieved Ermengarde’s 
fear. 

I have come to help you, ma’mselle,” she said 
in her cheerful tones. “ Will you let me brush 
out your hair?” 

Thank you,” said Ermie. “I want you to 
dress it on the top of my head, please — liigh -^ — 
something like an old picture — you under- 
stand ? ” 

Petite’s eyes sparkled. 

I know what you mean,” she said. Pouffed, 
ever so — like the pictures of the ancient ladies in 
the picture-gallery.” 


THE BEATJTIPITL DRESS. 


208 


“ Yes,” said Ermengarde. “ I want my hair 
to be arranged like a young grown-up lady. 
You understand?” 

“Perfectly, ma’mselle. I will go and fetch 
hair-pins. But we haven’t too much time ; 
Ma’mselle Lilias is dressed. She wears her 
hair straight down her back.” 

Ermengarde said nothing. The mysteries of 
the toilet proceeded, and at the end of half an 
hour Lilias knocked at her friend’s door. 

Ermengarde was now arrayed in the white 
chiffon dress ; it touched the ground, and swept 
away in a short train at the back. It was 
cut a little open at the neck, and the round 
childish arms were bare to the elbow. Bound 
her throat Ermengarde had hung Marjorie’s 
Maltese cross, and among the masses of her 
high piled-up hair reposed a lovely pearl butter- 
fly. The dress was most unsuitable, but the 
childish face, colored high now with excitement 
and gratified vanity, looked quite radiant in its 
loveliness. 

Petite was in ecstasies. 

“ Ma’mselle looks as if she had stepped out 
of one of the old picture-frames,” she said. 
“ Look how beautiful I have contrived her hair 
to sit.” 

Lilias did not say much. She w’as an 
intensely polite girl, and she crushed back the 


904 


THE CHILD UEH OE WiLTOH CHASE. 


exclamation of dismay wliich rose to her lips. 
Her own appearance was the extreme of sim- 
plicity. Her muslin frock was short ; her 
little white shoes and silk stockings were visible. 
Kound her waist she wore a plain white sash, 
and her golden hair fell in masses down her 
back. 

While Petite was dressing her, Ermengarde’s 
silly heart was mounting on higher and higher 
Avings of gratified delight. But when she 
looked at Lilias, an uneasy sensation came over 
her for the first time. 

“Come,” said Lilias, in her gentle voice, 
“ we’ll go down to the drawing-room, and stay 
together near one of the Avindows. I don’t 
suppose anyone Avill take us in to dinner ; but 
that does not matter — we’ll take one another 
in.” 

“ Do you like my dress ? ” suddenly asked 
Ermengarde. 

“Well, Ermie, isn’t it just a little old ?” 

“ Nonsense, Aunt Elizabeth gave it to me. 
She ought to knoAv, I suppose.” 

Ermengarde did not care to mention then 
that the dress Avas a cast-off garment of her 
Aunt Elizabeth’s. 

The tAvo girls went doAvnstairs hand in 
hand. Ermie’s long dress and train made 
her feel awkward. She began to be more and 


the BEAtiTlJ’UL DBESS. 


^05 


more sure that her evening attire, notwith- 
standing its great beauty, was unsuitable. 
She hoped no one would specially notice her. 
She felt uncomfortable as she saw several pairs 
of eyes fixed upon her, as she and Lilias walked 
across the drawing-room. 

The two girls got behind the shelter of a 
curtain, and Ermengarde rejoiced in the fact 
that her father had not yet come downstairs. 

A few more minutes went by; the guests 
arrived in twos and threes — then dinner was 
announced. As Lilias had foretold, she and 
Ermeno^arde were to take each other in to dinner. 
They were the last to enter the dining-room. 
Lady Kussell had arranged that the two little 
girls were to sit together, but at the very last 
moment some change was made, and Ermie to 
her horror found herself between her father 
and a stout old gentleman, who was inclined to 
regard her as an overdressed, but pretty little 
doll. 

Mr. Wilton never fussed about dress, but he 
had a keen eye for the proprieties. He saw at 
a glance that Lilias looked exactly as she ought, 
and that Ermengarde did not, but he could not 
tell where the difference lay. Ermie as a rule 
was one of the neatest of little maids. To- 
night she was not untidy, and yet — he could 
not tell why — she looked all wrong. 


906 THE CHILDREif Ol' WlLTOl^ CHASE. 


Mr. Wilton sighed, thought of his dead wife, 
wondered how he could ever manage his fast 
growing-up family, and then slightly turning 
his back on Ermie, tried to forget his cares in 
conversation with his neighbor on his other 
side. 

The fat old gentleman began to talk to 
Ermengarde. 

“ Home for the holidays, eh, my dear ? ” he 
began, half- winking at her. 

I don’t go to school,” answered Ermengarde. 
She flushed angrily, and her reply was in her ^ 
primmest voice. 

The fat old gentleman finished his soup 
calmly. Ermie’s prim indignation amused him. 
He glanced from her childish face to her grown- 
up head, and then said in a semi-confiding 
whisper : Tell me, do you consider a classical 

education essential to the development of wom- 
en’s brains ? ” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” stammered poor Ermie. 

“ Then you’re not a Girton girl ? ” 

“ ]^o ; why do you ask ? ” answered Ermen- 
garde. She began to feel a little flattered. The 
old gentleman must certainly consider her quite 
grown-up. 

“ Well,”’ he replied, with another comical 
twinkle in his eyes, “I thought you seemed so 
intelligent, and although you have a young face, 


THE BEAtlTlEtiL DRESS. 




you have somehow or other an old way about you. 
You’ll forgive my speaking frankly, my dear, but 
I notice that most old-young girls attend some of 
the colleges.” 

Ermengarde felt delighted. She changed her 
mind about the fat old gentleman, and began to 
regard him as a most agreeable person. He con- 
sidered her face remarkable for intelligence, and 
although she was quite grown up, she looked 
sweetly youthful. She leant back in her chair, 
and toyed with her food. 

“ I’m not very old,” she began. 

Not more than eighteen, I should think,” 
replied the old gentleman. 

Ermengarde gave vent to a silvery laugh. 

Eh ? You’re not more than that, are you ? ” 
asked her companion. 

No, sir,” she answered. I am not more than 
eighteen.” 

Although he was talking very earnestly to his 
neighbor, Mr. Wilton heard his daughter’s laugh. 
It sounded to him a little forced and strained. 
His undefined sensation of discomfort increased. 
He turned and looked at Ermengarde. There 
certainly was something quite unusual about her. 
Now he raised his eyes to her hair. 

Ermie ! ” he exclaimed, what have you done 
to your head ? My dear child, what a show you 
have made of yourself ! ” 


208 THE CHILDREN OF WlLTOH CHASE. 

His voice was quite clear enough for the old 
gentleman to hear him. 

Ermengarde blushed painfully. She muttered 
something inaudible, and looked down. 

What possessed you to make such a guy of 
yourself ? ” continued her father, in a vexed tone, 
which was very low now. “ A little girl like you 
aping young ladyhood ! I am very much annoyed, 
Ermengarde ; I did not think you could be so 
silly.” 

Then he turned his back once more, and ad- 
dressed his neighbor on the other side. 

Poor Ermie felt her. eyes swimming in tears. 
The mortification to which her father had sub- 
jected her just at her moment of triumph was 
very bitter. She could not eat a delicious entree 
which was being offered to her at that moment, 
and it is possible that, notwithstanding her pride, 
she might have given way comj)letely to her out- 
raged feelings had not the old gentleman come to 
her rescue. He was sorry for the poor little maid 
who had aped the ways of the grown-up. He 
dropped his quizzical manner, and entered into a 
pleasant conversation. He drew Ermengarde on 
to speak of her home, and in especial of her brother 
Basil, and he thought the little girlish face very 
charming indeed when Ermie spoke eagerly of her 
favorite brother. 

The rest of the dinner passed off fairly well, 


THE BEAUTIFUL DRESS. 


209 


and Ermengarde hoped she might be able to 
retire into a corner when she got into the draw- 
ing-room, and so escape any more of her father’s 
censure. 

This, however, was difficult, for Lady Kussell 
called both the girls forward, and in especial 
introduced Ermengarde to several friends of her 
own. Some of these ladies knew her mother, 
and they looked kindly at Ermie, and only 
whispered together behind her back about the 
extraordinary costume the poor little girl was 
got up in. 

These ladies evidently blamed Ermengarde’s 
father, and spoke of her as a sadly neglected 
child. 

Ermie felt that the ladies were whispering 
about her, and she began to hate the beautiful 
chiffon dress, and to long to tear it off her back. 


CHAPTER XVIL 


THE MORE BEAUTIFUL FACE. 

WO tall girls were standing near the 
piano ; one had just sung a song in 
a very brilliant style, the other was 
complimenting her ; the gentlemen had 
not yet come in. 

“ Flora, do look at that queer little per- 
sonage over there ! ” exclaimed^ the singer, 
glancing in Ermengarde’s direction. Did 
you ever see such a little comicality? Why, 
she can’t be more than twelve years old, 
and she is dressed in much older style than 
you or I.” 

^‘Stop, Kate, I’m sure she hears you^” said 
Flora. 

don’t care if she does, conceited little 
monkey. Who in the world is she ? ” 

^^Her name is Ermengarde Wilton. Yes, of 
course, the dress is unsuitable, but small piece of 
gorgeousness that she is, I’d give a good deal to 
possess her handsome face ; and so would you, 
for the matter of that, Kate.” 

Ermengarde was standing near a window. 

210 




THE MORE BEAUTIFUL FACE. 


211 


Now she pushed a muslin curtain aside, and hid 
herself behind its folds. 

“ There ! She did hear you this time, Flora,” 
said Kate. 

I meant her to,” replied the other. ^^You 
were humiliating her so horribly, Kate.” 

The two girls whispered a little longer, then 
they parted company. Ermengarde stood behind 
the shelter of the window curtain. Her heart 
was beating fast, her cheeks were flushed, her 
eyes had a triumphant light in them. 

Yes, she had heard what those horrid girls 
were saying. She had heard every word. 
They had abused her dress, but they had praised 
her face. This praise made up for all. What 
mattered the dress which could be so easily 
removed, compared with the face which would 
remain. 

Ermengarde’s heart thrilled within her at the 
delicious words of flattery. These grown-up 
girls envied her! Oh, she could bear anythiug 
after that. 

She was standing thus, thinking her own 
thoughts, when the light swish of silken drapery 
near caused her to look round, and to her aston- 
ishment the girl who was called Flora stood in 
the shelter of the window by her side. 

I hope I am not crowding you,” she said in a 
gracious voice to Ermengarde. “ It is so hot in 


212 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


the drawing-room ; I have just come here to get 
cool before the gentlemen come in.” 

'^You don’t disturb me at all,” said Ermen- 
garde. 

Thank you. Are you Miss Wilton ? I think 
you must be. My mother knows your father 
very well.” 

And your name is Flora something ? ” an- 
swered Ermengarde, looking up with proud 
defiance in her face. And you were speaking 
about me to a girl called Kate, and you abused 
my dress, and said that I was a little piece of 
gorgeousness, and that I was only twelve years 
old. I am not twelve — I am fourteen and three 
months.” 

Oh, my dear child, you should not have been 
eavesdropping.” 

wasn’t. You spoke out very loud. I 
thought you knew I must hear you.” 

Dear, dear, I am sorry. I did not mean to 
hurt your feelings, really. Miss Wilton. Of 
course the dress is lovely. Catch Kate or me 
aspiring to anything half so fine. But then, you 
did look very young in it. Are you really four- 
teen ? You don’t look it.” 

“Yes, I am fourteen and three months.” 

“ Of course that makes a great difference. 
Come, now, let’s be friends. My name is 
Flora St. Leger, and mother and I are going to 


THE MOEE BEAUTIFUL FACE. 


213 


stay at Glendower for a couple of days. Are 
you staying here ? ” 

“Yes, with my father. We came to-day.” 

“ Oh, I suppose you are Lilias Eussell’s friend. 
Isn’t she a prim little piece ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” answered Ermengarde angrily. 
“I only consider that she is the dearest and 
most beautiful girl in the world.” 

“ Oh, folly ! she can’t hold a candle to you. 
I’d like to see you when you’re dressed for 
your first drawing-room. You know, Ermen- 
garde — I may call you Ermengarde, may I 
not — I did say something very nice about 
your face, even when I abused your dress. 
You heard that part too, didn’t you, sly 
monkey ? ” 

“Yes,”- said Ermie, in a low voice. Then she 
added, “ But it is not true about my being more 
beautiful than Lilias, and I don’t like you even 
to say it.” 

“Well, puss, you can’t help facts: Lilias is 
very well in her way ; you are twice as striking. 
Oh, there comes George Martineau. I promised 
to play his accompaniments for him ; he will 
sing some German songs in a minute. You 
listen when he does. He has a remarkably fine 
tenor voice for an amateur.” 

Flora St. Leger glided away from the recess 
of the window, and Ermengarde was left alone. 


214 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


She did not mind this in the least, her medita- 
tions were so pleasant ; and Flora had given 
her such agreeable food for thought, that she 
was quite delighted to be able to have a quiet 
few minutes to think over everything. She 
had quite forgiven Flora’s unkind words for 
the sake of her flattering words. Flora had 
said the sort of things that Susy had often 
regaled her with before, but how much more 
important were the honeyed speeches coming 
from the lips of this grown-up and beautiful 
young lady. Ermengarde felt herself quite in 
love with Flora. Poor Lilias was nothing, 
compared to the friend she had just made. 
She was glad to know that Flora w^as going 
to spend a couple of days at Glendower. She 
earnestly hoped that she might see a good deal 
of her during these few days. 

The evening passed somehow, and Ermie 
managed to escape to her room without again 
meeting her father. 

Petite was helping her to undress, when 
to her surprise Lady Russell herself came 
in. 

“My dear little Ermengarde,” she said. She 
went up to the young girl and kissed her 
affectionately. “You can leave us. Petite,” 
said Lady Russell to the maid. When they 
were alone, she turned to Ermie. 


f 


THE MORE BEAUTIFUL FACE. 


215 


My love, I am sorry to appear interfering, 
but you are a motlieiiess little girl. Your 
dress to-niglit was very unsuitable.” 

“ Aunt Elizabeth gave it to me,” said Ermen- 
garde, pouting. 

Yes, my dear ; but, pardon me, we won’t 
go into the question of how you came by the 
dress. You are at least ten years too young 
to be dressed in a fanciful costume of that kind. 
Your father does not wish you to Avear that 
dress again, Ermie, nor to arrange your hair 
as you did to-night. Have you got a simple 
white dress with you, my child ?” 

“ No,” said Ermie, still pouting and froAvning ; 
“ I thought the white chiffon was exactly what 
I needed.” 

“ Poor child, you sadly miss your mother. 
Well, my loAm, don’t do it again; that’s all. 
I Avill get Petite to alter one of Lilias’s frocks 
for you to wear to-morroAV evening. Now, 
good-night, dear; sleep sound. I am glad you 
have come to keep our Lilias company for a 
few days.” 

Lady Kussell kissed Ermengarde and left 
her. She took no notice of the little girl’s 
sullen face, nor of her rude manner. She Avent 
away looking what she was, a gracious motherly 
woman. 

am deeply sorry, both for Ermengarde 


216 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


and her father,” she said to herself. Any- 
one can see that the poor man does not know 
how to manage all those children. Marjorie 
takes after her sweet mother, but Ermengarde ! 
she is not an easy child to influence, and yet 
what a beautiful face she has ! ” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


IN THE TOILS. 

HE summer at Glen dower was always 
a gay time. The house was usually 
full of guests, and as there were 
horses and carriages, and a yacht and a 
sailboat, as well as two or three rowboats, the 
guests had certainly all possible advantages of 
locomotion. 

The next morning was a glorious one, and 
Lilias and Ermie, after breakfasting together 
in Lilias’s own special boudoir, put on their 
shady hats, and went out to walk about the 
grounds. The air was so delicious, and Lilias 
was so sweet and bright and unselfish, that it 
was impossible for Ermie not to feel in the best 
of spirits. 

She ceased to desire to be grown up, and 
was satisfied to run races with Lilias in 
the simple pink cambric frock, which suited 
her infinitely better than the gorgeous 
chiffon, 

Ermengarde’s life was not without care just 
then, but at this moment she forgot her. 

^17 



218 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


anxieties about Susy and Basil, and the broken 
miniature. She forgot her mortification of the 
night before, and looked what she was, a happy 
child. 

Lilias was talking eagerly about the plans 
for the day’s entertainment. The whole party 
were to drive to a certain point about eight miles 
from Glendower. There they were to picnic, 
and afterward, with the tide in their favor, would 
return home by water. 

“And mother says I may drive my own 
ponies,” said Lilias. “You haven’t seen my 
Shetlands yet, have you, Ermie? Oh, they are 
such lovely pets, and father has given me real 
silver bells for their harness.” 

Ermengarde was about to make a reply, when 
a voice was heard calling Lilias. 

“ I’ll be back in a minute, Ermie,” said Lilias. 
“I suppose mother wants me to arrange about 
something. Don’t go far away ; I’ll be with you 
directly.” 

She ran off, and Ermengarde, finding a rustic 
bench under a tree, sat down and looked around 
her. She had scarcely done so, when she was 
joined by Flora St. Leger. 

“ I saw you alone, and I rushed out to you, my 
love,” said the young lady. “ I want to speak 
to you so badly. Where can we go to be by 
ourselves ? ” 


IN THE TOILS. 


219 


“But I am waiting here for Lilias,” said 
Erinengarde. 

“ Oh, never mind. What does it matter 
whether Lilias finds you here when she comes 
back or not? She doesn’t really want you, and 
I do.” 

Now this was all immensely flattering, for 
Flora was quite grown up, and Ermengarde had 
already lost her silly little heart to her. 

“ I should like to oblige you,” she said. 

“Well, do oblige me! Let us fly down this 
side-walk. There’s a shrubbery at the farther 
end, where we shall be quite alone. Come, give 
me your hand.” 

Ermengarde could not resist. A moment later 
she and Flora were pacing up and down in the 
shrubbery. 

“Ermengarde,” said Miss St. Leger eagerly, 
are you going to that stupid, stupid picnic 
to-day?” 

“ Why, of course,” said Ermengarde, looking up 
in astonishment. 

“You may call me Flora if you like, my dear 
love. What a sweet, pretty pet you are ! Now 
that I look at you by daylight, I think it’s a 
perfect sin that, with a face like yours, you should 
have to wear short frocks.” 

Ermie sighed. Miss St. Leger’s tone was 
full of delicious sympathy, and when the next 


220 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


moment she slipped her arm round the little 
girl’s waist, Ermie experienced quite a thrill of 
delight. 

I have fallen in love with you, that’s a fact,” 
said Miss St. Leger ; ‘‘ but now, about that picnic ; 
you don’t really want to go ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. Flora. Lilias is going to drive me in 
her pony-carriage.” 

“Lilias! Let her take a child like herself. 
You ought to be with the grown-ups.” 

“Everyone treats me exactly as if I were a 
child,” said Ermengarde. “ I do think it’s a 
great shame, for I don’t feel in the least like 
one.” 

“ Of course you don’t, pet. Now listen to me. 
Tm not going to this stupid, horrid picnic.” 

“ Aren’t you. Flora ? ” 

“ No, I’m going to stay at home, and I want 
you to stay with me. You won’t be dull, I 
promise you.” 

“ But what excuse can I give ? ” 

“ Oh, say you’re tired, or have a headache, or 
something of that sort.” 

“But I’m not tired, and I haven’t got a 
headache.” 

Flora pouted. 

“After all, you are only a baby,” she said. 
“ I made a mistake ; I thought you were 
different.” 


m THE TOILS. 


221 


Ermeri garde colored all over lier face. 

Do you really, really want me, Flora ? ” slie 
asked timidly. 

Of course I do, sweet pet ; now you will 
oblige me, won’t you?” 

^^I’d certainly like to. Flora.” 

“ That’s a darling. Go back to the bouse, 
and lie down on your bed and, when Lilias calls 
you at the last moment, say you’re tired, and 
you’d like to stay quiet. Of course you are 
tired, you know ; you look it.” 

“ I suppose I am a little bit,” said Ermengarde. 
Her heart felt like lead. Her gayety had 
deserted her, but she was in the toils of a much 
older and cleverer girl than herself. 

She stole softly back to the house, and when 
Lilias found her lying on her bed, she certainly 
told no untruth wdien she said that her head 
ached, for both head and heart ached, and she 
hated herself for deceiving her sweet little 
friend. 

The picnic people departed, quietness settled 
down over the house, and Ermie, who had cried 
with vexation at the thought of losing that 
delightful drive and day of pleasure, had 
dropped into a dull kind of dose, when a knock 
came to her room door, and Miss St. Leger 
entered. 

^^Now, little martyr,” she said, in a cheerful 


THE CIIlLDliEN^ OP WlLTON CHASE. 

voice, “jump up, make yourself smart, put on 
your best toggery, forget your headaclie, and 
come downstairs with me. We are going to 
have some fun on our own account, now, sweet. 

“ O Flora, wliat are you going to do ? ” 

“ First of all, we’ll have some lunch, and after- 
ward we’ll stroll through some woods at the 
back of the house, and I’ll tell you some of my 
adventures in London last season. Oh, my 
dear, I did have a time of it ! Four entertain- 
. ments often in one evening ! That’s what 
you’ll be going through, Ermie, in a year or 
two. ” 

“ Is it ? ” said Ermengarde. Her eyes did not 
sparkle any more. Somehow Flora did not 
seem as fascinating to her as she had done an 
hour ago. Lilias’s disappointed face would come 
back again and, again to her memory. She rose, 
however, and under Flora’s supervision put on 
the smartest of her morning frocks, and went 
downstairs to lunch. 

When the meal had come to an end, and the 
servants had withdrawn, Ermie asked Flora 
another question. 

“ Are we only going to walk in the woods ? ” 
she said. “ Is that all you asked me to stay at 
home for ! ” 

“HZ/, you silly puss? Well, no, it isn’t quite 
all. We are going to have tea with some 


IIT THE TOILS. 


friends of mine. We are to meet them in the 
woods — very nice people — you’ll be charmed 
Avith them. We’re all going to have a gypsy 
tea together in the woods.” 

“But, Flora, I thought you hated picnics?” 

“ Oh, what a little innocent goose ! I hate 
some kinds. Not the kind I’m going to take 
you to. Now run upstairs, and put on your 
hat. It is time for us to be strolling out.” 

“But, Flora ” 

•“ No more of your ^buts’ — go and get ready. 
Ah, my sweet child, frowns don’t become that 
charming little face of yours. Now, off with 
you ; put on your most becoming hat, and let us 
set forth.” 

Ermengarde walked upstairs as if her feet 
were weighted with lead. The uneasy feeling, 
which had begun to arise in her heart when 
Flora proposed that she should tell a lie in order 
to remain at home, deepened and deepened. 
Ermengarde had lots of faults, but she was a 
little lady by birth and breeding, and it sud- 
denly occurred to her that Flora’s flatteries 
were fulsome, and that Flora herself was not in 
what her father would call good style. She was 
hot at all brave enough, however, noAV, to with- 
stand her companion. She put on her white 
shady hat, drew gauntlet gloves over her hands, 
caught up her parasol, and i*an downstairs. 


224 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Flora was waiting for her. Flora’s eyes were 
bright, and her cheeks flushed. 

“ Now come,” she said. You’ll enjoy your- 
self so much, Ermie, and we must be quick, for 
we must be back again in the house before our 
friends return from their picnic.” 

“ O Flora, are you doing anything wrong ? ” 

Flora’s face got crimson all over. 

I was mistaken in you, Ermengarde,” she 
said. I thought you were quite a different 
sort of girl. I thought you were the kind of 
girl I could make a friend of. I said so to Kate 
last night. I offended poor Kate. I made her 
cry when I said, ^If Ermengarde Wilton was 
only a year or two older, she’d sympathize with 
me. I never saw such sympathetic eyes in any- 
one’s face.’ Kate was mad with jealousy, but I 
only wish I had her here now, poor Kate ! ” 

“ O Flora, you know I don’t mean to be 
unkind.” 

“ Of course you don’t, love ; you were only a 
silly little goose. Now, come along, we have no 
time to lose.” 

Flora took Ermengarde’s hand and the two 
girls soon found themselves in the magnificent 
woods at the back of (jlendower. These woods 
covered many acres of land, and were the great 
pride of the beautiful old place. There were 
woods at AVilton Chase, but not like these, and 


IN THE TOILS. 


225 


Ermengarde stopped several times to exclaim 
and admire. 

Oh, how Basil would have enjoyed this walk ! 
How easily he would have climbed those trees ! 
how merrily he would have laughed ! how gay 
his stories would have been ! And Basil might 
have been here to-day, but for Ermengarde ; 
he might have been here, driving and riding 
with Lilias; enjoying the woods, and the sea, 
and the picnic fun. 

Basil, who was the best of all boys, the best, 
and the most honorable, was at home in 
disgrace because of her. Ermie’s heart beat 
heavily. Her footsteps slackened. She scarcely 
heard Flora’s gay chatter. 

After walking a mile or so, the girls found 
themselves in the midst of a clearing in the 
woods. Here some carriages and horses were 
drawn up, and a gay party of girls, one or two 
round-faced and stout matrons, and a few young 
men were standing together. 

The girls and the young men raised a noisy 
shout when they saw Flora, and rushed to meet 
her. 

“ How good of you to come, Florrie ! W e 
were half afraid you couldn’t manage it.” 

Oh, I promised last night,” said Flora 
hastily. I thought George told you. How do 
you do, George ? Maisie, let me introduce to 


226 THE CHILDREN OE WILTON CHASE. 

you my *great friend, Miss Wilton. Miss Wil- 
ton, Miss Burroughs.” Then Flora tripped on 
in front by the side of the clumsy-looking 
George, and Erinie found herself standing face 
to face with Miss Burroughs. She was a loud- 
voiced, vulgar-looking girl. 

“Come along,” she said almost roughly to her 
little companion. “I wonder what Flora meant 
by walking off in that fashion. Well, I don’t 

suppose you want me to chaperon you. Miss 

I forget your name.” 

“ Wilton,” said Ermengarde, in a haughty voice. 

“ Miss Wilton ! I don’t know why Flora left 
you on my hands in that style. She just intro- 
duced us and rushed off — just like Florrie, so 
independent and selfish. I never knew anyone 
so selfish. But I have my own fun to see after. 
Oh, there’s Florrie in the distance. I’ll shout 
after her. Flora ! Florrie ! Flora St. Leger ! ” . 

Flora turned. 

“ What is it, Maisie ? ” she screamed back. 

“What am I to do with Miss Wilton? I’m 
going for a long walk with the Slater girls. 
She can’t possibly go so far, and besides, we 
don’t want children.” 

“ Isn’t Fanny here ? ” screamed back Flora. 

“Yes, and Tootsie.” 

“Well, let her stay with Fanny and Tootsie 
for a bit.” 


IN THE TOILS. 


227 


Flora turned and walked down tke hill rapidly 
with her companion. Maisie caught hold of 
Ermengarde’s hand, and began to run with her 
under the trees. 

Presently she came across a stout little girl of 
about eleven, accompanied by a stouter little boy 
who might be a year older. 

“ Fanny,” said Maisie, this child’s name is 
Wilton. She’ll stay and play with you and 
Tootsie for a bit. Now be good children, all of 
you. Ta-ta ! I’ll be back in time for tea.” 

Maisie vanished round a corner, and Ermen- 
garde found herself alone with Fanny and 
Tootsie. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


SOME PEOPLE WHO DID NOT FLATTER. 

y were not an agreeable-looking 
ir ; they had evidently been din- 
y, and their faces were sticky. 
Dey * had also been quarreling, for 
they cast scowling glances at each other, and 
were in far too bad a temper to be civil to the 
newcomer. 

“ I don’t want her to play with ns,” said 
Tootsie, and he half turned his back. 

I’m sure then she shan’t play with me,” 
said Fanny. I don’t wish to play with any- 
one, I’m sick of play. It’s just like that horrid 
Maisie.” 

^‘She isn’t a bit more horrid than you and 
Tootsie!” suddenly remarked Ermengarde, find- 
ing her voice, and speaking with what seemed to 
the two children slow and biting emphasis. 

You’re all horrid together; I never met such 
horrid people. You are none of you ladies and 
gentlemen. I wouldn’t play with you for the 
world! Good-by; I’m going home.” 

Ermengarde turned her back, and began to 




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‘ I ’m going home ; please let me pass,’ said Ermengarde. 




SOME PEOPLE WHO DID NOT FLATTER. 229 

walk rapidly away from the picnic party. 
Whetlier slie would have succeeded in finding 
her w^ay back to Glendower remains a mystery, 
for she had not gone a dozen yards before she 
encountered a stout old lady, who spread out her 
arms as she approached, and made herself look 
like a great fan. 

^^AVhither away, now, little .maid of the 
woods ? ” she said. Oh, I suppose you are the 
little girl called AVilton, whom Florrie brought 
over from Glendower with her. Maisie told me 
of you.” 

I’m going home ; please let me pass,” said 
Ermengarde. 

Oh, highty-tighty ! not a bit of you, dearie. 
You’ll stay here till Florrie wants to go back. 
You’d get her into no end of a scrape if you were 
to leave her now. You must stick to her, my 
love. It would be unkind to desert poor Florrie 
in that fashion. I thought Maisie had left you 
with Fanny and Tootsie.” 

“ Yes, but they are horrid rude children. I 
could not possibly play with them.” 

^^AVell, they are handfuls,” said the stout lady. 
“ I’m their mother, so I ought to know. You 
don’t mind staying with me, then, love, do 
you ? ” 

“ I’d much rather go home,” repeated Ermen- 
garde. 


230 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


But you can’t do that, my dear child, so 
there’s no use thinking about it. Come, let us 
walk about and be cozy, and you tell me all about 
Glendower.” 

The old lady now drew Ermengarde’s slim 
hand through her arm, and she found herself 
forced to walk up and down the greensward in 
her company. 

Mrs. Burroughs was a downright sort of person. 
After her fashion she was kind to Ermie, but it 
never entered into her head to flatter her. She 
was a gossiping sort of body, and she wanted the 
child to recount to her all the tittle-tattle she 
knew about Glendower. Ermengarde had neither 
the power nor the inclination to describe the 
goings on at Glendower graphically. The stout 
lady soon got tired of her short answers, and 
began to survey her from head to foot in a critical 
and not too kindly spirit. 

Dear, dear ! ” she said, what, an overgrown 
poor young thing you are ! But we must all go 
through the gawky age ; we must each of us 
take our turn. Maisie is just through her bad 
time, but when she was fourteen, wasn’t she 
a show just! You’re fourteen, ain’t you, my 
love ?” 

^^Yes,” said Ermengarde. 

“ Ah, I thought as much ! I said so the 
. moment I set eyes on you, I knew it by your 


SOME PEOPLE WHO DID NOT FLATTER. 231 

walk. Neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring 
is a maid of fourteen ; she’s all right once she 
passes seventeen, so you take heart, my love. I 
dare say you’ll be a fine girl then.” 

Mrs. Burroughs,” interrupted Ermengarde, 
I really must look for Flora. It is time for 
us to be going back. I must find her, and if she 
won’t come. I’ll go alone.” 

She wrenched her hand away from the stout 
lady’s arm, and before she could prevent her, 
began running through the woods to look for 
Flora. 

Miss St. Leger was nowhere in sight, so 
Ermie, feeling her present position past en- 
during, determined that, whatever happened, 
she would go back to Glendower. She was for- 
tunate enough to meet one of the gamekeepers, 
and guided by his instructions presently found 
herself back in the house. Weary and stiff, her 
head aching, she crept up to her room, and 
threw herself on her bed. Oh, what horrid 
people Flora knew ! oh, what a hoi’rid girl 
Flora really was ! 

Ermengarde wondered how she could ever 
have liked or admired Flora, or made a friend 
of such a girl. She lay on the bed and listened 
intently, wondering what would happen if the 
picnic party returned before Flora chose to put 
in an appearance. In that case, would she, 


232 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Ermengarde, be blamed ? Would suspicion 
attach to her? Would her father discover how 
deceitfully she had behaved? 

“ He would send me straight home if he 
knew it,” thought Ermie. *^Oh, what a lot of 
scrapes IVe been getting into lately ! What 
with Susy and the miniature, and Miss Nelson 
and Basil, and now this horrid mean Flora ? 
Oh dear, oh dear ? I’m sure I’m not a bit 
happy. I wish I could get straight somehow, 
only it’s hopeless. I seem to get deeper and 
deeper into a dark wood every day. Oh dear! 
there is nothing whatever for me but to hope 
that things won’t be found out.” 

There came a gentle knock at Ermengarde’s 
door. 

Come in,” she said, in a shaking voice. Her 
fears made her tremble at every sound. 

Petite appeared, bringing in a tempting little 
tray, with tea, and bread-and-butter, and cake. 
She inquired if Ermengarde knew where Miss 
St. Leger was. Ermie murmured something 
which the French maid tried to interpret in 
vain. 

“ I’ll look for ma’mselle in her room,” she said. 

She arranged the tea-tray comfortably for 
Ermie, and withdrew. 

The little girl drank her tea ; it soothed and 
comforted her, and she was Just falling into a 


SOME PEOPLE WHO DID NOT FLATTER. 233 


doze, when her room door was opened without 
any preliminary knock, and Flora, flushed, pant- 
ing, and frightened, ran in. 

Ermengarde, they are all returning. They 
are in the avenue already. Oh, how cruel of 
you to come home without me ! You might 
have got me into an awful scrape.” 

could not help it. Flora. You should not 
have left me with such people. They are not 
at all in our set. Father would not wish me to 
know them.” 

Oh, nonsense ! They are as good as any- 
body.” 

“ They are not ; they are not good at all. 
They are vulgar and horrid. I am sui-prised 
you should have taken me to see such people.” 

^^Well, well, child, it’s all over now. You’ll 
never tell about to-day, will you, Ermengarde ? ” 

“ Oh, I suppose not. Flora.” 

“ You suppose not ? But you must promise 
faithfully. You don’t knoAV what mischief you’ll 
make, if you tell. Promise no^v, Ermengarde ; 
promise that you won’t tell.” 

“ Very well, I promise,” replied Ermie, in a 
tired-out voice. 

“ That’s a darling. I knew you were a pretty, 
sweet, little pet. If ever I can do anything for 
you, Ermie, I will. Kiss me now, love. I hear 
their voices in the hall^ and I must fly.” 


234 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Flora rushed noisily out of the room, and 
Erinie breathed a sigh of relief. 

That evening at dinner the stout old gentle- 
man was very kind to the little girl who, with 
her hair down her back, and in a very simple 
muslin frock, sat by his side. In fact he took 
a great deal more notice of her than he did 
of the richly-attired young lady of the previous 
evening. In the course of the meal he imparted 
one piece of information to Ermengarde, which 
put her into extremely good spirits. He told 
her that Miss St. Leger and her mamma were 
leaving by a very early train on the following 
morning. Ermengarde quite laughed when she 
heard this, and the old gentleman gave her 
a quick pleased wunk, as much as to say, “I 
thought you were too sensible to be long 
influenced by the flattery of that young 
person.” 

Flora herself avoided Ermengarde all through 
the evening. She left her entirely to the 
society of her child friend Lilias, and finally 
went to bed without even bidding her good-by. 


CHAPTER XX. 

WHAT DID BASIL MEAN ? 

T was rather late on the evening of 
the second day after Ermengarde 
and her father had gone to Glen- 
dower, that Marjorie, who had been 
playing with the nursery children, and drag- 
ging the big baby about, and otherwise dis- 
porting herself after the fashion which usually 
induces great fatigue, crept slowly upstairs to 
her room. 

She was really awfully tired, for the day had 
been a hot one, and nurse had a headache, and 
Clara, the nursery-maid, was away on a holiday. 
So Marjorie had scarcely breathing time all 
day long. Xow she was going to bed, and the 
poor little girl looked rather limp and abject 
as she crept along the passage to her room. 

I do hope Ermie is having a jolly time,” she 
murmured to herself. I can just fancy how 
delicious it is at Glendower now. It is such a 
beautiful, perfect place, just hanging over the 
sea. And there’s going to be a moon. And the 
moon will shine on the sea, and make it silver.” 

235 




236 


THE CHILDREN OP WILTON CHASE. 


Mai’jorie reached her room. She climbed up 
on the window-ledge and gazed out. 

^‘Yes, the moon is getting up,” she said, 
speaking her thoughts aloud, which was one 
of her old-fashioned ways. Oh, how beautiful 
the moon must look on the sea. I wonder if 
Ermie is looking at it. Not that poor Ermie 
cares for moons, or things of that sort ; but 
Lilias does. Who’s that ? O Basil, is it you ? 
Have you come to talk to me ? How awfully 
jolly ! There’s lots of room for both of us on 
the window-ledge. Squeeze in, Basil ; there, 
aren’t we snug? Please, may I put my arm 
round your neck to keep myself tight ? ” 

“ All right, Mag. Only don’t quite throttle 
me if you can help it. I thought you had some 
one with you. I heard you chattering.” 

“ Only to myself. It’s a way I have.” 

Well, go on, never mind me; I’m nobody.” 

“Oh, aren’t you, just! Why, you are Basil, 
you’re the eldest of us all, and the wisest, and 
the best.” 

“Hush, Maggie.” 

Basil’s brow was actually contracted with 
pain. 

“Yes, you are,” repeated Marjorie, who saw 
the look, and began to feel her little heart 
waxing very hot. “ O Basil, I meant to 
spend all. to-day and yesterday clearing you; 


WIIAT BID BASIL MEAN 1 


237 


yes, I did, darling, I did ! And I never thouglit, 
when it was made to be my plain duty to 
stay at home, that I was only to help in the 
nursery all day long. O Basil, I am so 
sorry.” 

“ I don’t know what you mean, Maggie, by 
clearing: me,” said Basil. Clearing; me of 
what?” 

“ Why, of course, you have been unjustly 
accused by father.” 

‘^Stop, Maggie. I have not been unjustly 
accused by anyone.” 

“ Basil, you know you didn’t break the little 
sisters miniature, nor steal it from Miss Nelson. 
You know you never did!” 

Basil put his arm round Marjorie’s waist. 

You think not ? ” he said with a slow, rather 
glad sort of smile. 

“ Thitik not ? I know you didn’t do it ! 
You do anything mean and horrid and wicked 
and shabby like that 1 You ? Look here, Basil, 
even if you told me you did it, I wouldn’t 
believe you.” 

“ All right, Mag ; then I needn’t say any- 
thing.” 

Only you might just tell me ” 

What?” 

That you didn’t do it. That you are shame- 
fully and falsely suspected.” 


S38 


THE CHiLDEElf OE WILTON CHASE. 


No, I could not tell you that, Maggie. My 
father lias every ri^ht to be annoyed with me.” 

Basil!” 

I can’t explain, my dear little Mag. You 
must just take it on trust with me. I am not 
falsely accused of anything.” 

Marjorie unlinked her hand from Basil's 
clasp. She sprang off the windowdedge on to the 
floor. 

^^Look here,” she said, “I can’t stand this! 
There’s a mystery, and I’m going to clear you. 
Oh, 3^es, I will ; I am determined ! ” 

“ No, Maggie, you are not to clear me. I don’t 
wish to be cleared.” 

“ Basil, what do you mean ? ” 

“ What I say. I don’t wish to be cleared.” 

“Then father is to go on being angry with 
you ? ” 

Basil suppressed a quick sigh. 

“ I’m afraid he will, for a bit, Maggie,” he 
answered. “ He’ll get over it ; I’m not the first 
fellow who has had to live a thing down.” 

“ But when you never did the thing ? ” 

“We won’t go into that. I’ve got to live it 
down. Boys often have rough kinds of things to 
get through, and this is one. It doesn’t matter a 
bit. Don’t fret, Mag. I assure you, I don’t feel 
at all bad about it.” 

“ Oh, look at the moon ! ” suddenly exclaimed. 


WHAT DID BASIL MDAN ? SS9 

Marjorie. Isn’t slie a lady ? isn’t she graceful ? 
I wish those trees wouldn’t hide her; she’d 
be so lovely, if we could have a good look at 
her.” 

^^We can’t half see her here,” said Basil. 
“Let’s come into father’s room. We’ll have 
a splendid view from one of his windows.” 

Marjorie had forgotten all about her fatigue 
now. She took Basil’s hand, and in a silent 
ecstasy which was part of her emotional little 
nature, went with him into the big bedroom 
where Mr. Wilton slept. They could see splen- 
didly all over the park from here, and as they 
looked, Marjorie poured out a good lot of her 
fervent little soul to her favorite brother. 

Basil was never a boy to say much about 
his feelings. Once he stooped down and kissed 
Marjorie. 

“What a romantic little puss you are,” he 
said. Then he told her she must be sleepy, 
and sent her away to bed. 

“ But you won’t stay in this great lonely 
room by yourself, Basil.’^ 

“ This room lonely ? ” said Basil with a smile. 
“ I used to sit here with mother. And her 
picture hangs there. I’m glad of the chance 
of having a good look at it in the moonlight.” 

“ Basil, do let me stay and look at it with 
you.” 


240 


THE CHILHREH OF WILTOK CHASE. 


“No, Maggie. I don’t Avaut to be unkind. 
You are a dear little thing, but it would help 
me best to be alone with mother’s picture. 
You don’t misunderstand me, Mag?” 

“ Of course I don’t. Good-night, dear Basil ; 
good-night, darling. This talk Avith you has 
been as good as tAVO or three days at Glen- 
doAver.” 

Marjorie ran off, and Basil AA^as alone. He 
Avent and knelt down under the girlish picture 
of his dead mother. Tlie moonbeams AA^ere 
shining full into the room, and they touched 
his dark head, and lit up his young mother’s 
fair face. Basil said no AAwds aloud. He 
knelt quietly for a moment ; then he rose, 
and Avith tears in his eyes gav^e another long 
look at the picture as he turned to leave the 
room. 


CHAPTEE XXI. 
susy’s feverish desire. 



UDSOX was waiting for Marjorie 
when she came back to her bed- 
room. 

I don’t know what to do, miss,” she 
said to the little girl. I’m aware it’s Mr. Wilton’s 
orders, but still, what am I to do with the poor 
woman? She’s crying tit to break her heart, 
and it do seem cruel not to sympathize with her. 
It’s a shame to worry you. Miss Maggie, but 
you’re a very understanding little lady for your 
years.” 

^AVell, Hudson, I’ll help if I can,” said Marjorie. 

Who’^he poor woman ? and what is she crying 
about ? ” 

‘Ht’s Mrs. Collins, my dear. It seems that 
Susy isn’t going on at all satisfactory. The 
doctor says she has a kind of low fever, no way 
catching, but very bad for the poor little girl. 
Susy cries quite piteous to see Miss Ermen- 
garde, and it does seem cruel that under the 
circumstances there should be distinctions in 
rank.” 


241 


242 THE children of WILTON CHASE. 

''But Ermie is away,” said Marjorie. "Susy 
can’t see her, however much she wishes to. Did 
you tell Mrs. Collins that ? ” 

" I did, dear, and she said she daren’t go back 
to the poor child with a message of that sort ; 
that she was so fretted, and contrary, and feverish 
as it was, that she quite feared what would 
happen.” 

" But what’s to be done, Hudson ? Ermie 
really is far aAvay, and nothing, nothing that we 
can do can bring her back to-night.” 

" I know, Miss Maggie, but poor women 
with only children are apt to be unreasonable, 
and Mrs. Collins does go on most bitter. She 
says she knows there’s a secret on Susy’s mind, 
and she feels certain sure that the child will 
never take a turn for the better until she can 
let out what’s preying on her. Mrs. Collins 
is certain that Miss Ermengarde knows some- 
thing about Susy, and that they have had some 
words between them, and she says there’ll be 
no rest for the poor little creature until she 
and Miss Ermie have made whatever is wrong 
straight.” 

Marjorie stood looking very thoughtful. 

" It’s late, my dear, and you’re tired,” said the 
servant. " It seems a shame to worry you. 
Hadn’t you better go to bed ? ” 

" Oh, don’t, Hudson,” said Marjorie. " What 


busy’s feverish DES‘IRE. 


243 


does it matter about my going to bed, or even 
if I am a bit tired? I’m thinking about poor 
Susy, and about Ermie. I’ve got a thought — 
I wonder— Hudson, I wish father hadn’t said 
so firmly that Ermengarde was not to see 
Susy Collins.” 

“Well, missy, my master is in the right. 
Little ladies do themselves no good when they 
make friends and equals of children like Susy. 
They do themselves no good, and they do still 
more harm to the poor children, whose heads 
get filled up with vain thoughts. But that’s 
neither here nor there. Miss Maggie, in the 
present case. Illness alters everything, and 
levels all ranks, and if Miss Ermengarde was 
at home, she ought to go and see Susy, and 
that without a minute’s delay, and your good 
father would be the very first to tell her so, 
Miss Maggie.” 

“ Then I know what I’ll do,” said Marjorie. 

I’ll go straight away this minute to Miss 
Nelson, and ask her if I may go and see Susie. 
I dare say she’ll let me — I’ll try what I can do, 
anyhow. You run down and tell Mrs Collins, 
Hudson. I’m not Ermie, but I dare say Susy 
would rather see me than no one.” 

Miss Nelson was writing letters in her own 
room, when Marjorie with a flushed eager face 
burst in upon her. She made her request 


244 


THE CHILDREN" OF WILTON CHASE. 


with great earnestness. Miss Nelson listened 
anxiously. 

will see Mrs Collins,” she said at last. 
The poor woman Avas brought up to the govern- 
ess’s room, and at sight of her evident grief 
Miss Nelson at once saw that she must act on 
her own independent judgment, and explain 
matters by and by to Mr. Wilton. 

Ermengarde is away,” she said to Mrs. Col- 
lins, but if the case is really serious, she can be 
sent for, and in the meantime I Avill take Mar- 
jorie myself to the cottage, and if your little 
girl wishes to see her, she can do so. Fetch 
your hat, Marjorie, dear, and a Avarm wrap, for 
the dews are hea\"y to-night.” 

Marjorie was not long in getting herself ready, 
and twenty minutes later the poor anxious 
mother and her two visitors found themselves 
in the cottage. 

Look here, Mrs. Collins,” said Marjorie, the 
moment they entered the house. want you 
not to tell Susy I ha\"e come. I’d like to slip 
upstairs very gently, and just see if I can do 
anything for her. I’ll promise to be aAvfully 
quiet, and not to do her a scrap of harm.” 

Mrs. Collins hesitated for a moment. Mar- 
jorie Avas not the Miss Wilton Susy was asking 
for, and she feared exciting the poor refractory 
little girl by not carrying out her wishes exactly. 


busy’s feverish desire. 


245 


But as Susy’s tired feverish voice was distinctly 
heard in the upper room, and as Miss Nelson 
said, think you can fully trust Marjorie; 
she is a most tender little nurse,” Mrs. Collins 
yielded. 

“You must do as you think best, miss,” she 
said. 

Marjorie did not wait for another word. She 
ran lightly up the narrow stairs, and entered the 
room where the sick child was sitting up in 
bed. 

“ Is that you. Miss Ermie ? ” said Susy. “ I 
thought you were never coming — never. I 
thought you had forsook me, just when I am so 
bad, and like to die.” 

“ It’s me, Susy,” said Marjorie, coming forward. 
“ Ermengarde’s away, so I came.” 

“Oh, I don’t w^ant you. Miss Marjorie,” said 
Susan. 

She flung herself back on the bed, and taking 
up the sheet threw it over her face. Marjorie 
went up 10 the bedside. 

“ There ain’t a bit ot use in your staying, Miss 
Marjorie,” continued Susy, in a high-pitched, ex- 
cited voice. “You don’t know nothing ’bout me 
and the picture. You ain’t no good at all.” 

Marjorie’s heart gave a great bound. The pic- 
ture ! That must surely mean the broken minia- 
ture. “Basil, dear Basil,” whispered the little 


246 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


girl, ^^you may not have to live down all the 
horrid, wicked, cruel supicion after all.’^ 

“ I wish you’d go away, Miss Marjorie,” said 
Susy from under the bedclothes. “ I tell you 
miss, you can’t do me one bit of good. You 
don’t know nothing about me and the picture.” 

“But I can hold your hand, Susy,” said Mar- 
jorie ; “ and if your hand is hot, mine is lovely 
and cool. If you’re restless, let me hold your 
hand. I often do so to baby if he can’t sleep, 
and it quiets him ever so.” 

Susy did not respond for a minute or two, but 
presently her poor little hot hand was pushed out 
from under the bedclothes. Marjorie grasped it 
firmly. Then she took the other hand, and softly 
rubbed the hot, dry fingers. Susy opened her 
burning eyes, flung aside the sheet, and looked at 
her quiet little visitor. 

“You comfort me a bit, miss,” she said. “I 
don't feel so mad with restlessness as I did when 
you came in.” 

“ That’s because I have got soothing hands,” 
said Marjorie. “ Some people have, and I sup- 
pose I’m one. The children at home always go 
to sleep when I hold their hands. Don’t you 
think you could shut your eyes and try to go to 
sleep now, Susy ? ” 

“ Oh, miss, there’s a weight on my mind. 
You can’t sleep when you’re ill and like to 


Susy’s fevekisii desire. 


247 


die, and there’s a weight pressing down on 
you.” 

“I don’t believe you’ll die, Susy; and if 
you’ve a weight on your mind, you can tell God 
about it, you hndw.” 

“ No, miss, God’s awful angry Avith me.” 

^^He’s never angry with us, if Ave are sorry 
about things,” answered Marjorie. ‘^He’s our 
Father, and fathers always forgive their children 
Avhen they are sorry. If you are sorry, Susy, 
you can tell God, your Father, and he’ll be 
sure to forgive you at once.” 

“I’m sorry enough, miss, but I think Miss 
Ermie is as bad as me. I’d neA-er have done it, 
never, but for Miss Ermie. I think it’s ‘mean * 
of her to keep aAvay from me Avhen I’m ill.” 

“ Ermengarde is not at home, Susy ; but if you 
want her very badly, if you really Avant her for 
anything important, I Avill Avrite to her, and she 
shall come home — I know she Avill.” 

“ Thank you. Miss Marjorie ; I didn’t think 
nothing at all about Avhat I did Avhen I Avas 
.Avell, but noAV it seems to stay AAuth me day and 
night, and I’m sorry I Avas so spiteful and mean 
to Miss Nelson. But it Avasn’t my fault, miss — 
no, that it Avasn’t — that the picture was broke. 
What is it. Miss Marjorie ? PIoav you start.” ' 

“ Nothing,” said Marjorie ; “only perhajis, Susy, 
you’d rather tell Ermie the rest ;■ and she shall 


248 


TJIE CIIILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


come back; I promise you that she shall come 
back.” 

“ Thank you, Miss Marjorie ; you are real good, 
and you comfort me wonderfully when you hold 
my hands.” 

Well, I wish you’d let me put your sheets a 
little straight ; there, that’s better. Now I’m 
going to turn your pillow. And Susy, do let 
me push all that tangled hair out of your eyes. 
Now I’m going to kneel here, and you must 
shut your eyes. I promise you shall see Ermie. 
Good-night, Susy ; go to sleep.” 

Miss Nelson waited quietly in the little 
kitchen downstairs. The voices in Susy’s sick- 
room ceased to murmur; presently Mrs. Collins 
stole softly upstairs. She returned in a few 
minutes accompanied by Marjorie. There were 
tears in the poor woman’s eyes. 

“ My Susy’s in a blessed, beautiful sleep ! ” she 
exclaimed. “And it’s all owing to this dear 
little lady ; may Heaven reward her ! I don’t 
know how to thank you. Miss Marjorie. Susy 
hasn’t been in a blessed healthful sleep like that 
since she broke her leg. It puts heart into me 
to see the child looking quiet and peaceful once 
again. And now I’ll go upstairs and sit with 
her.” 

Miss Nelson and Marjorie walked quickly 
home together. When they reached the house, 


SUSY’S FEVEPwISII DESIRE. 


249 


the little girl made one request of her gover- 
ness. 

I want to write to Ermie. May I do it 
to-night ? ” 

“ No, my love, I must forbid that. You are 
much too tired.” 

‘‘ But it is so important — far more important 
than I can tell you, and I promised Susy.” 

“ Maggie, do you want Ermengarde to come 
home ? ” 

Oil, yes ; she must come home.” 

Then you shall send her a telegram in the 
morning.” 

But that seems cruel. My letter will be far, 
far better. I could explain things a little in a 
letter.” 

Miss Nelson considered for a moment. 

I have great trust in you, Maggie,” she 
said. “ I won’t question you, for I daresay you 
have heard something from Susan Collins in 
confidence. I am sure you would not wish 
to recall Ermengarde unless there was great 
need.” 

There is ; oh, really, there is.” 

Then you shall go to bed now, and I will 
send you to Glendower with Hudson by the first 
train in the morning.” 


CHAPTER XXIL 


QUITE m A NEW CHARACTEK. 

HE day was lovely, and Ermengarde 
woke once more in tke best of 
spirits. Notwithstanding her un- 
happy day, she had enjoyed herself 
much the night before. She had worn Lilias’ s 
simple white dress, and Marjorie’s Maltese cross 
with its narrow gold chain had given to her 
appearance just that finish which best suited her 
youth. 

Ermengarde had looked remarkably pretty, 
and many people had noticed the fact, and one 
or two of Mr. Wilton’s gentlemen friends had 
congratulated him in quite audible tones on 
having such a charming and lovely little 
daughter. Ermengarde had herself heard these 
words, and had seen a glow, half of sadness half 
of pleasure, light up her father’s dark eyes, and 
her own heart had swelled within her. She 
began to know the difference between real 
praise and flattery. She thought how fascinat- 
ing it would all be when she was really grown 
up, and dull lessons were over, and Miss Nelson 
850 



QUITE IN A NEW CHARACTER. 


251 


was no longer of tlie slightest consequence, when 
she could dress as she pleased, and do as she 
liked. 

In the agreeable feelings which these thoughts 
gave her, she forgot about Basil’s displeasure. 
She ceased to remember that the dearest friend- 
ship of her life was in danger of being broken, 
was so Jeopardized that it was scarcely likely 
that the severed threads could ever be reunited 
with their old strength. Ermengarde ^vas away 
from all unpleasant things, her fears about 
Flora were completely removed, and it was in 
her selfish and pleasure-loving nature to shut 
herself away from the memory of what Avorried 
her, and to enter fully into the delights of her 
present life. She rose gayly, and no one could 
have been merrier than she when she Joined 
Lilias at the breakfast-table. The two girls 
had this meal again alone in Lilias Bussell’s 
pretty boudoir. 

Shall we ride, or go out in the yacht ? ” said 
Lilias to her companion. I heard father making 
all arrangements for a sail last night, and I know 
he’ll take us if we ask him. Which Avould 
you like best, Ermie? If you are a sailor, I 
can promise you a good Jolly time on board 
the Albatross: I was so sorry you Avere not Avith 
us yesterday.” 

Oh, I am a capital sailor,” said Ermengarde. 


252 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


We were at the Isle of Wight last year, and 
Basil and I sailed nearly every day. Maggie used 
to get sick, but we never did.” 

‘‘There’s just a lovely breeze getting up to- 
day,” said Lilias. “I’m so glad you like sailing, 
Ermie, for I know we shall just have a perfect 
time. If you’ll stay here for a few minutes. 
I’ll run and ask father if he will take us with 
them.” 

Lilias stepped out through the open window, 
and Ermengarde leant against a trellised pillar 
in the veranda, and looked out over the peace- 
ful summer scene, her pretty eyes full of a 
dreamy content. She was so happy at the thought 
that Flora was really gone that she felt very 
good and amiable ; she liked herself all the better 
for having such nice, comfortable, kindly thoughts 
about everyone. Even Eric could scarcely 
have extracted a sharp retort from her at this 
moment. 

Lilias came flying back. “ It’s all right ! ” she 
exclaimed. “ The Albatross sails in an hour, and 
we are to meet father and Mr. Wilton, and the 
other gentlemen who are going to sail, on the 
quay at half-past eleven. I shall wear my white 
serge boating-costume. Have you anything pretty 
to put on, Ermie ? ” 

“Nothing as nice as that,” said Ermengarde 
with a jealous look. “ There’s my dark blue 


QUITE m A NEW CHARACTER. 


253 


serge, but it will look dowdy beside your 
wliite.” 

I liave two white serge boating-dresses,” 
said Lilias. “ I will lend you one if you will 
let me. Our figures are almost exactly alike, 
and we are the same height. My dress had 
scarcely to be altered at all for you last night. 

Come, Ermie, don’t look so solemn. You shall 

look charming, I promise, and I will make you 
up such a posy to wear in your button-hole. 
Now, shall we stroll about, or just sit here and 
be lazy ? ” 

Do let us sit here,” said Ermengarde. You 
don’t know wliat a comfort the stillness is, 
Lily. At this hour at home all the little ones 

are about, and they make such a fuss and noise. 

I think it’s the worst management to allow 
children to keep bothering one at all hours of 
the day.” 

^‘Well, I’m not tried in that way,” said 
Lilias, with a quick half-suppressed sigh, “ and 
as I adore children, I am afraid I can’t quite 
sympathize — O Ermie, what a queer old 
shandrydan is coming up the avenue ! Who 
can be in it ? Who can be coming here at 
this hour? Why, I do declare it’s the one- 
horse fiy from the station ! Noah’s Ark, we 
call that fiy, it’s so rusty and fusty, and so 
little in demand ; for you know, when people 


254 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


come to Glendower, we always send for tliem, 
and I don’t think the station is any use except 
for shunting purposes, and to land our visitors. 
Wlio can be coming in Noah’s Ark ? ” 

Just then a very rough little head, surmounted 
by a brown straw hat, was pushed out of one of 
the windows of the old fly ; a lot of wild, long, 
disordered hair began to wave in the breeze; 
and a hand was waved frantically to the two 
girls,'"as they sat in the cool veranda. 

“ Why, it’s Maggie ! ” exclaimed Lilias. “ It’s 
Maggie, the duck, the sweet ! How delicious ! 
What has brought her ? ” 

She took a flying leap down the veranda 
steps, and across the lawn, to meet the old 
fly. 

It’s Maggie ! ” echoed Ermengarde, who 
did not rush to meet her little sister. “ What 
has happened ? what has gone wrong now ?” 

She rose from the luxurious chair in which 
she was lounging and, throwing back her head, 
gazed watchfully at the fervent meeting which 
was taking place between Lilias and Marjorie. 

Detestable of Maggie to follow me like 
this ! ” muttered Ermengarde. I wonder Miss 
Nelson allows it. Really our governess is 
worse than useless, not a bit the sort of person 
to teach girls in our position. Now, what can 
be up ? Oh, and there’s Hudson ! Poor, prim, 


QUITE IN A NEW CHARACTER. 


255 


proper old Hudson. She has come to take care 
of the darling cherub who never does wrong. 
Well I think it’s taking a great liberty with 
Lady Russell’s establishment, and I only trust 
and hope father will give it hotly to Miss 
Nelson.” 

‘‘Well, Maggie.” Ermengarde advanced a step 
or two in a very languid manner. “Oh, don’t 
throttle me, please. How very hot and messy 
you look ! and what has brought you to Glen- 
dower ? ” 

“The dear kind train, and the dear kind 
Noah’s Ark,” interrupted Lilias. “Don’t I 
bless them both ! Mag, I want to show you 
my grotto ; I arranged the shells in the pattern 
you spoke of last year* They look awfully 
well, only I’m not quite sure that I like such 
a broad row of yellow shells round the edge.” 

Lilias spoke with some rapidity. She was 
standing opposite the two sisters ; she was not at 
all an obtuse girl, and she felt annoyed at Ermen- 
garde’s coldness to Marjorie, and wanted to make 
up to her by extra enthusiasm on her own part. 
Lilias had never seen the home side of Ermie’s 
character, and was amazed at the cliange in her 
expression. 

“O Lily, I should love to look at the 
grotto ! ” exclaimed Marjorie, “ and perhaps I’ll 
have time for just one peep. But I’m going 


256 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


back again by the next train, and it’s awfully 
important that I should speak to Ermie — awfully 
important.” 

Marjorie was never a pretty child, and she 
certainly did not look her best at that moment. 
Fatigue had deprived her of what slight color 
she ever possessed ; her hair was dreadfully 
tossed, her holland frock rumpled and not too 
clean, and her really beautiful gray eyes looked 
over-anxious. Marjorie’s whole little face at 
that moment had a curious careworn look, out 
of keeping with its round and somewhat babyish 
form. 

If you want to talk to Ermie, I’ll run away,” 
said Lilias. ^^I’ll find mother, and tell her that 
you’ve come, Maggie ; and we must discover 
some expedient for keeping you, now that you 
have arrived.” 

When Lilias finished speaking she left the 
room, and Ermengarde instantly turned to 
Marjorie. 

“This is really too silly!” she said. “I felt 
obliged to you two days ago, but I’d rather 
never have come than see you here now 
making such an exhibition of yourself. Do 
you know that you have taken a very great 
liberty, forcing yourself into the house this 
way ? ” 

“I’m going back again by the next train, 


QUITE IN A NEW CHAEACTER. 


2/57 


Ermie, and I did tliink that you’d rather have me 
than a telegram.” 

“ You than a telegram ? I want neither you 
nor a telegram. Maggie, I think you are the 
most exasperating child in the world ! ” 

“Well, Ermie, you won’t let me speak. I’ve 
come about Susy ; she let out all about the 
miniature to me last night.” 

“ About the miniature ! ” echoed Ermengarde 
rather faintly. Her defiant manner left her ; 
her face turned pale. “ The miniature ! ” she 
said. Then her eyes blazed with anger. “ Why 
have you interfered with Susy Collins, Mag- 
2:ie ? ” she said. “ Have you disobeyed my 
father, too ? ” 

“ No, Ermie. I’ll tell you about it — you 
have got to listen. I’ll tell you in as few words 
as I can. You know, Ermie, that Basil has got 
into trouble with father. He gave Miss Nelson 
back the miniature, and father thought that 
Basil had first stolen it, and then broken it ; 
and father was very, very angry with Basil, so 
Basil w^ouldn’t come to Glendower, although he 
wanted to. And last night Basil came to sit 
with me in my room, and I told him I meant to 
clear him, for I knew as well as anything that 
he had never stolen the picture or broken it, 
or done anything shabby. And Basil said 
that I Avas not to clear him, that he didn’t 


258 


THE CIIILDREH OF WILTON CHASE. 


wish to be cleared, and that he’d live it down. 
Basil and I went away to father’s room to look 
at the moon, and Basil asked me to leave him 
there, for he wanted to be alone with mother’s 
picture. Then I went away, and it was late, 
and I was going to bed, when Hudson came 
and told me that Mrs. Collins had come, and 
that she wanted you ; and Mrs. Collins was 
crying awfully, and she said Susy was very 
bad, and she was always calling out for you, 
and if you didn’t go to see her, perhaps Susy 
would die. 

So then I went to see Susy, and she really 
was awfully ill ; she had fever, and was half 
delirious ; and she talked about the picture, and 
about its being broken, and she wanted you so 
dreadfully. Then I promised I’d bring you to 
her to-day, and that quieted her a little, and 
no one else heard what she said about the 
miniature. Miss Nelson went with me to the 
Collinses’ cottage last night, and I told her how 
important it was that you should see Susy, but 
she does not know the reason. No one knows 
the reason but me.” 

‘‘ And you ” said Ermengarde. 

Yes, Ermie, I know. I couldn’t help guess- 
ing, but I haven’t told. I have left that for 
you.” 

Ermengarde turned her head away. 


QUITE m A NEW CHARACTER. 


259 


I thought I’d be better than a telegram,” 
began Marjorie again. 

‘‘ O Maggie, do stop talking for a moment, 
and let me think.” 

Ermengarde pressed her hand to her forehead. 
She felt utterly bewildered, and a cold fear, the 
dread of exposure and discovery, gave a furtive 
miserable expression to her face. 

Just then Lilias came into the room. 

I hope your great confab is over ? ” she 
exclaimed. Mother is so pleased you have 
arrived, Maggie, and of course she insists on 
your remaining, now that you have come. 
Hudson can go home and pack your things, 
and send them to you, and you shall come out 
in the yacht with us ; we’ll have twice as jolly 
a day as we would have had without you, 
Maggie.” 

“ But I must go home, really,” said Marjorie, 
“ and — so must Ermie, too, I’m afraid.” 

“ Yes,” said Ermengarde, rousing herself with 
an effort, and coming forward. ‘ Maggie has 
brought me bad news. There’s a poor little girl 
at home, the daughter of our head game-keeper. 
She broke her leg a week ago, and she’s very ill 
now with fever or something, and she’s always 
calling for me. I — I — used to be kind to her, and 
I think I must go. Maggie says she never rest^ 
calling for me,” 


260 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


It’s very noble of you to go,” said Lilias. 

This quite alters the case. Let me rim and tell 
mother. Oh, how grieved I am ! but dear Ermie, 
of course you do right. That poor little girl — I 
can quite understand her looking up to you and 
loving you, Ermie. Let me fly to mother and 
tell her. She’ll be so concerned ! ” 

In a very few moments Lady Russell and 
Mr. Wilton had both joined the conference. 
Mr. Wilton looked grave, and asked a few 
rather searching questions, but Marjorie’s down- 
right little narrative of Susy’s sufferings softened 
everyone, and Ermengarde presently left the 
house, with the chastened halo of a saint round 
her young head. 

Her saint-like conduct, and the romantic 
devotion of the poor retainer’s daughter, made 
really quite a pretty story, and was firmly 
believed in by Lady Russell and Lilias. Mr. 
Wilton, however, had his doubts. Ermie in 
the role of the self-denying martyr is too new 
and foreign for me,” he muttered. There’s 
something at the back of this. Basil in dis- 
grace (which he well deserves, the impudent 
young scoundrel), and Ermengarde the friend 
and support of the suffering poor ! these things 
are too new to be altogether consistent. There’s 
something at the back of this mystery, and I 
shall go home and see what it means to-morrow.” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


BLESSED AND HAPPY. 

RMEXGARDE was sitting in her 
own room, and Marjorie was stand- 
ing by her side. It was the day 
after Ermie’s unexpected return 
home. She had spent a couple of hours with 
Susy, and Miss Nelson had given her a grave 
but kind welcome. Now the first day was 
over, the first night had gone by, and Ermen- 
garde was sitting, resting her cheek upon her 
hand, by the open window of her pretty bed- 
room. 

Marjorie was lolling against the window- 
ledge ; her anxious eyes were fixed on Ermen- 
garde, who was looking away from her, and 
whose pretty face wore a particularly sullen 
expression. 

“ Well, Ermie, what will you do ? ” asked 
Marjorie, in a gentle voice. 

Oh, I don’t know — don’t worry me.” 

“ But you must make up your mind. Miss 
Nelson is waiting.” 

Let her wait ; what do I care ? ” 




202 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


“ Eriiiie, wliat’s the good of talking like that ? 
Miss Nelson is our governess, and mother used 
to he fond of her. You know it was mother 
asked her to come and take care of us when 
she knew that God was going to take her away. 
So, Ermie, there’s no use in being disrespectful 
to her, for, even if it wasn’t very wrong, father 
wouldn’t allow it for a minute. Ermie, do you 
know that father has come back ? ” 

JSfo ! What can he have come back for ? ” 
Ermengarde raised her brows in some alarm. 
“ I can’t make out why he should have shortened 
his visit to Glendower,” she added anxiously. 

I can’t tell you, Ermie. He’s talking to 
Basil now ; they are walking up and down in 
the shrubbery.” 

Oh, well, Basil — Basil is all right.” 

Marjorie felt a flood of indignant color filling 
her face. 

Basil won’t tell,” she said, in her sturdy 
voice. That’s quite true. Basil has promised, 
and he’d mvei'' break his word. But Miss 
Nelson is different, and she — she has determined 
to find out the truth.” 

Ermengarde sprang from her chair. 

“ What do you mean, Maggie ? ” 

I’m awfully sorry, Ermie, but I really mean 
what I say. Miss Nelson says she is deter- 
mined to find out everything. She has sent 


BLESSED AND HAPPY. 


263 


for you to speak to you. You had much better 
come to her. Oh, now, I knew you’d be too 
late ! That’s her knock at the door.” 

The rather determined knock was imme- 
diately followed by the lady in question. Miss 
Nelson was a very gentle woman, but her eyes 
now quite blazed with anger. 

Ermengarde, it is quite a quarter of an hour 
since I sent for you.” 

Ermie lowered her eyes — she did not speak. 
Miss Nelson seated herself. 

Why did you not come to me, Ermengarde, 
when I sent Maggie for you ? ” 

I — I didn’t want to.” 

Miss Nelson was silent for a minute. 

I anticipated your saying something of this 
kind,” she remarked presently. ^^So, as it is 
necessary we should meet, I took the trouble 
to come to you. Ermengarde, look at me.” 

With a great effort Ermie raised her eyes. 

^^What did Susy Collins say to you, yester- 
day ? ” 

I — I don’t want to tell you.” 

I desire you to tell me.” 

I can’t.” • 

You mean you won’t.” 

“I can’t tell you, Miss Nelson.” 

Ermengarde clasped and unclasped her hands. 
Her expression was piteous. 


264 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Miss Nelson was again silent for a few 
minutes. 

Ermengarde,” slie said then, ^^this is not the 
time for me to say I am sorry for you. I have 
a duty to perform, and there are moments when 
duties must come first of all. Susan Collins’s 
excitement, her almost unnatural desire to see 
you, have got to be accounted for. There is a 
cloud over Basil that must be explained away. 
There is a mystery about a little old miniature 
of mine : it was stolen by some one, and broken 
by some one. The story of that miniature 
somebody must tell. At the risk of your 
father’s displeasure I took Maggie to visit Susy 
Collins the other night. You were away on 
a visit with your father, and I allowed Maggie 
to fetch you home. There is undoubtedly an 
adequate reason for this, but I must know it, 
for I have to explain matters to Mr. Wilton ; 
therefore, Ermengarde, if you will not tell ,me 
fully and frankly and at once all that occurred 
between you and Susy yesterda}^ I will go 
myself and see the Collinses, and will learn the 
whole story from Susy’s own lips.” 

“Oh, you will not,” said Ermengarde. “You 
never could be so cruel!” 

All her self-possession had deserted her. 
Her face was white, her voice trembled. 

“I must go, Ermie. Wretched child, why 


BLESSED AND HAPPY. 


265 


don’t you save yourself by telling me all you 
know at once?” 

I cannot, I cannot ! ” 

Ermengarde turned her head away. Miss 
Nelson rose to leave the room. 

I am going to my room,” she said ; “ I will 
wait there for half an hour. If at the end of 
half an hour you do not come to me, I must go 
to see the Collinses.” 

Ermengarde covered her face with her hands. 
Miss Nelson left the room. 

“ Ermie,” said Marjorie in her gentlest voice, 
wish you’d leave me,’' said Ermengarde. 

There would never have been all this mischief 
but for you ; I do wish you’d go away ! ” 

^^If you only .would be brave enough to tell 
the truth,” whispered Marjorie. 

“ Do, do go away ! Leave me to myself.” 

With great reluctance the little girl left the 
room. As she sidled along the wall, she looked 
back several times. A word, a glance would 
have brought her back. But the proud, still 
little figure by the window did not move a 
muscle. The angry eyes looked steadily out- 
ward ; the lips were firmly closed. Marjorie 
banged the door after her; she did not mean 
to, but the open window had caused a draught, 
and Ermengarde with a long shiver realized 
that she was alone. 


266 


THE CHILDREN OF WILTON CHASE. 


Now, that’s a comfort,” she murmured ; “ now 
I can think. Have I time to rush up to Susy, 
and tell her that she is not to let out a single 
word ? Half an hour — Miss Nelson gives me half 
an hour. I could reach the Collinses’ cottage 
in about ten minutes, if I flew over the grass; 
five minutes with Susy, and then ten minutes 
back again. I can do it — I will ! ” 

She seized her hat, rushed to the door, ran 
along the corridor, and down the stairs. In a 
moment she was out. Her fleet young steps 
carried her lightly as a fawn over the grass, 
and down the path which led to Susy’s cottage. 
How fast her heart beat ! Surely she would 
be in time ! 

A short cut to the Collinses’ cottage lay 
through a small paddock which cut off an angle 
of the park. Ermie remembered this, and made 
for it now. There was a stile to climb, but 
this was no obstacle to the country-bred girl. 
She reached the paddock, vaulted lightly over 
the stile, and was about to rush along the 
beaten path when she was suddenly brought 
face to face with the two people whom in all 
the world she wished least to see just then — 
her father and Basil. They, too, were walking 
in the paddock, and met Ermengarde close to 
tlie stile. 

Ermie had never seen her father’s face wear 


BLESSED and ItAPPt. 


%7 

a sterner, or more displeased expression, but 
it was not bis glance wbicli frightened her most 
just then ; it was a certain proud, resigned, yet 
strong look whicli flashed at her for an instant 
out of Basil’s beautiful eyes. This, joined to 
an expression of suffering round his lips, gave 
Ermengarde for the. first time a glimpse of the 
abyss of deceit and wrong-doing into which she 
was plunging. 

A great longing for Basil’s love and approba- 
tion rushed over her. The desire for this was 
stronger in that first brief moment than her 
fear of meeting her father. She stood perfectly 
still, her hands dropped to her sides; she had 
not a word to say. 

You can go home,” said Mr. Wilton, turning 
to his son ; I have expressed my opinion ; I 
don’t mean to repeat it — there is nothing 
further to say.” 

Basil did not make any reply to this speech, 
nor did he asrain look at Ermengarde. He 

o o 

went to the stile, vaulted over it, and dis- 
appeared. 

And now, Ermie, where are you going to ? ” 
said her father. 

“ Home,” she answered confusedly. I am 
going home.” 

‘‘ My dear, I never knew that this way 
through the paddock led home. Come, Ermen- 


‘2QS 


THE CHILDREN OE WILTON CHASE. 


garde, I am tired of prevarication. What does 
all this mean ” 

Don’t ask me, father. I mean I’ll tell you 
presently. 1 want to see Miss Nelson.” 

“ Is Miss Nelson at the other side of this 
paddock? Ermengarde, I insist upon it, I will 
be answered.” 

Give me half an hour, father, a quarter of 
an hour — ten minutes — just to see Miss Nelson, 
and — and — Basil.” 

“ Then you are in league with Basil, too ! A 
nice state I find my family in ! I give a 
distinct and simple order to you, which you 
disobey. Basil, whom I always supposed to 
be the soul of honor, has behaved with wanton 
cruelty toward a lady who was your mother’s 
friend, whom I respect, and who has been 
placed more or less in authority over you all. 
Not a word, Ermengarde. Basil has as good 
as confessed his guilt, and I can only say that 
my old opinion' of him can never be restored. 
Then, I take you away on a visit, and Maggie 
comes to fetch you home, because, forsooth, the 
gamekeeper’s daughter with whom I have for- 
bidden you to have any intercourse is feverish, 
and wants to have a conversation with you. 
Nonsense, Ermie ! you posed very well at the 
Bussells’ yesterday as a little philanthropist, 
but that role, my dear, is not yours. Susan 




‘ It ’s on accoTint of Basil.’ 











BLt:SSED AND HAPPY. 




Collins liad a far stronger reason for recalling 
you from Glendower than the simple desire 
for your company. Come, Ermie, this mystery 
has got to be cleared up. This not the road 
home, nor am I aware that Miss Nelson resides 
at the other end of the paddock. But this 
narrow path leads directly to Collins’s cottage. 
I presume you are going there. If you have no 
objection, we will go together, my dear.” 

^^Yes, father, I have every objection. You 
need not go to Collins’s. I — I won’t keep 
it in any longer.” 

I thought I should bring you to your senses. 
Now, what have you got to say ? ” 

It’s on account of Basil.” 

Leave Basil’s name out, please. I am not 
going to be cajoled into restoring him to my 
favor again.” 

Ermengarde’s face, w^hich had been growing 
whiter and whiter during this interview, now 
became convulsed with a spasm of great agon}^. 
She put up her trembling hands to cover it. 
This wms not a moment for tears. Her hot eyes 
were dry. 

“ Father, you don’t know Basil. He has done 
nothing wrong, nothing. It’s all me. It’s all 
me, father.” 

And then the miserable story, bit by bit, was 
revealed to Mr. AVilton ; it was told reluctantly. 


^70 THE CHlLDIiEH OF WILTOH CHASE. 

for even now Ermengarde would liave shielded 
herself if she could. Without a single word or 
comment, the narrative was listened to. Then 
Mr. Wilton, taking Ermie’s hand, walked silently 
back to the house with her. Miss Wilton came 
down the steps of the front entrance to meet 
them. 

^^Good-morning, Ermengarde,” she said. 

How queer and dragged you look ? Roderick, 
I want to speak to you.” 

I will come to you presently, Elizabeth. 
I am particularly engaged just now.” 

But you are not going to take that child in 
thronsfli the front entrance ? ” 

“Will you allow me to pass, please ? ” 

Mr. Wilton’s voice was so firm that his sister 
made no further comment, but with a shrun of 
her shoulders turned aside. 

“If only Elizabeth were a different woman, 
I might not have scenes like this,” murmured the 
poor man. 

He went to his study, and there, to his great 
astonishment, found Marjorie and Basil both 
waiting for him. 

“We saw you coming up the field ” said Mar- 
jorie at once. “And I knew Ermie had told. 
I knew it by her face, and the way she walked. 
I told Basil so, and I said we would come in 
here, for I guessed you’d bring Ermie here. 


BLESSED AND HAPPY. 


271 


Dear Ermie, you are brave now ! Dear 
Ermie ! ” 

Marjorie ran up to her sister. 

“ It’s all going to be quite right now,” she said. 
And she raised her hushed eager face, and looked 
at her father. 

Mr. Wilton 'went straight to Basil’s side. 

‘‘ I misunderstood you, my boy ; forgive me,” 
he said. 

Ermengarde stood erect and stiff. She had not 
shed a tear, nor made any response to Marjorie’s 
words. Her whole soul was in her face, however. 
She was watching her father’s greeting of Basil. 
She waited for its effect. 

The few words uttered by Mr. Wilton were 
magical. Something seemed to hash out of 
Basil’s eyes. They looked straight up into his 
father’s, then dropped to the ground. 

Father,” he murmured. His father grasped 
his hand. 

O Basil,” suddenly sobbed Ermie. Her 
fortitude gave way; she rushed to her brother 
and almost groveled at his feet. 

Now, what’s to be done?” said Mr. Wilton, 
turning in a^ perplexed kind of way to his 
younger daughter. “ I confess it, I never felt 
more confused and put out in all my life. I 
brought Ermengarde here to punish her most 
severely.” 


272 


THE ClIILDEEK OF WILTON CHASE. 


Oil, please, father, don’t ! Let it be a full, 
complete. Jolly kind of forgiveness all round. 
Look at Basil, father.” 

Mr. Wilton turned his head. Basil was on his 
knees, and his arms were round Ermie, her head 
rested on his shoulder. 

Oh, father, do let us come out and leave them 
together for a little ! ” 

Beally, Maggie, you don’t treat me with a 
bit of respect,” said Mr. AVilton. But his voice 
was low, the frown had cleared from his 
brow, and he pinched Marjorie’s firm round 
cheek. 

I suppose I must humor you, little woman,” 
he said, “ for after all you are the only member of 
my family who never gets into scrapes.” 

Oh, father, I’m so haj^py ! ” They were out- 
side the study door now, and Marjorie, still 
clinging to her father’s hand, was ski]3ping up 
and down. Everything will be as right as pos- 
sible now, and no one, no one in all the world can 
help Ermie as Basil can.” 

“I believe you are right there, Maggie,” .said 
Mr. AVilton. ‘‘My poor lad, he certainly has 
done a noble. Quixotic sort of thing. I can’t for- 
give myself for being so harsh with him.” 

“ Oh, father, Basil quite understood. He 
didn’t wish to be cleared, you know.” 

“Yes, yes, I see daylight at last.” 


BLESSED AND HAPPY. 


273 


“Father, what do you mean by Basil beine 
Quixotic ? ” 

“ I’ll tell you another time, puss. And so 
you knew of this all the time ? ” 

“ Only since the night before last. I wanted 
Ermie to tell you herself. Basil wouldn’t tell, 
and he wouldn’t let me. Now it’s all right. 
Oh, how happy I am ! Now it’s all right. 

“ And you really mean me to let Ermengarde 
otf her punishment, Mag % ” 

“ Well, father?” 

Marjorie put her head a little on one side, 
and adopted her most sagacious and goody- 
goody manner. 

“ Wouldn’t it be well to see if Ermie hasn’t 
learnt something by this lesson, you know ? 
I expect Ermie has suffered a lot.” 

“ Not she — not she.” 

“Oh, but, father, I think she has. Couldn’t 
you wait until the next time to punish Ermie, 
father ? ” 

“Well, you’re a dear child,” said Mr. Wilton, 
“ and perhaps, for your sake ” 

“ Oh, no, father, for Basil’s sake.” 

“ Well then, for Basil’s sake.” 

Marjorie kissed her father about a dozen 
times. 

“ You’ll let Ermie just learn by her experience 
to be better another time, and that will be her 


274 


THE ClIiLHREH OE WlLTOH CHASE. 


only punishment,” said Marjorie, in her wisest 
manner. 

Well, Maggie, I suppose I must yield to 
you. And now, as this is to be, and I am not 
to assume the role of the severe father — between 
ourselves, Maggie, I hate roles — do let us drop 
the subject. I feel inclined for a game with 
the young ones. What do you say ? ” 

I say that the sun has come out, and I am as 
happy as the day is long,” replied Marjorie. 
“ Give me another kiss, please, father. Lucy, is 
that you ? Father is coming to have a romp 
with us all. Just one minute, please, father. I 
must go and tell Miss Nelson the good news.” 

“ What a blessed, happy, dear little thing 
Maggie is ! ” thought Mr. Wilton as, holding 
Lucy’s hand, he walked slowly to the nursery 
playground. She’s more like her mother than 
any of them. Yes, this may be a lesson to 
Ermengarde. Poor child, I hope so.” 

It was late that evening when Ermengarde and 
Basil, standing side by side under their mother’s 
picture, solemnly kissed each other. 

“ Basil, you will never love me in the old way 
again.” 

I love you better than anyone else in all the 
world, Ermie. Look up into mother’s eyes ; they 
are smiling at you.” 


BLESSED AND HAPPY. 


275 


“ I know what they are saying,” answered 
Ermengarde. She clasped her hands ; there was 
a stronger, better look than Basil had ever 
noticed before bn her pretty face. Mother’s 
eyes are saying, ‘ You have been very selfish, 

Ermie, and very ’ What is it, Basil ? ” 

Yes,” interrupted’Basil. I think selfishness 
was at the root of all this trouble. I never 
knew any one so unselfish as Maggie.” 

^‘And mother’s eyes say,” continued Ermen- 
garde, ^ take courage — and — and ’ ” 

“ I think mother is telling you to try to copy 
our dear little Maggie,” said Basil. 


THE END. 



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